Three for All
by Warviben
Summary: Harry and Hermione grow closer after Ron leaves them during the hunt for horcruxes. Their lives become even more interesting when Severus Snape joins them after the final battle. Strong warnings for sexual content (see inside for details).
1. Chapter 1

**THREE FOR ALL**

**by Warviben**

**Summary: **Harry and Hermione grow closer after Ron leaves them during the hunt for horcruxes. Their lives become even more interesting when Severus Snape joins them after the final battle. Strong warnings for sexual content.

**Warning:** This fic is for grown-ups. It contains detailed descriptions of sexual activities between two characters (a male and a female) and three characters (a female and two males). If you are not old enough, or if this type of thing is not for you, please stop reading now.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or the basic premise for their existence. I guess I do own some of the characters that come later – you'll know who they are.

**Notes:** This fic was "born" while I watched Deathly Hallows, as I was watching the scene added to the movie, where Harry dances with Hermione (which I thought was very sweet). The way Hermione was looking at Harry, I thought, _If Harry made a move on her now, she would be _SO_ his. _So I changed things up, had Harry make that move, and here we go.

I've entered this fic under the characters "Harry Potter" and "Severus Snape" because it's what I write. We start off with Harry and Hermione, but don't worry – Severus will make an appearance soon enough, and he'll play a large part in the story from that point forward.

This fic is completed, though it's a little long to post all together. I've broken it up into four chapters.

##########

Harry sat on his bed in the suddenly very quiet and empty tent, the merry tune playing on the forgotten radio a cruel counterpoint to his mood. Ron was gone. Ron had left them. Ron, always more affected by that damn locket, had finally given in to the frustration and despair. He'd wanted answers, and Harry had been unable to provide them. Didn't he know that Harry was frustrated, too? That Harry wished every day that Dumbledore had given him more information, a better idea what they were supposed to be doing here, just one damn clue what to do next? And now Ron was gone, and their pathetic band of horcrux hunters was down to two.

Harry looked across to Hermione. She looked utterly miserable, huddled on her own camp bed, hugging her knees, her eyes red and watery. If she gave in to the hopelessness, too, if he lost Hermione – he couldn't. He couldn't lose her, or he'd give up himself, dig a large hole and crawl into it, and never come out again.

Harry forced himself off the cot and across the tent. When he stopped in front of Hermione, he offered his hand to her. She looked up at him, a single tear track marring her beautiful face, and Harry thought for a moment that she was going to ignore his outreach. Finally, she slowly reached out her own hand and slipped it into Harry's.

With gentle pressure, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and led her to the middle of the room. Then, with all the awkwardness he possessed (which was a considerable amount), he began to dance with her, holding her at arm's length as he swivelled his hips and moved his feet in time to the music. Hermione stood stiffly at first, but then a small smile graced her lips, and she began to dance, too, copying Harry's clumsy movements. Harry twirled her under his arm, then she did the same to him, her smile blossoming into a laugh.

When she stumbled, Harry pulled her close, into the safety of his embrace, and their movements slowed, a close dance of mutual solace. Harry dropped his chin to Hermione's shoulder, nuzzling her neck with his nose. She smelled like cooking smoke and tree bark and the soap she'd transfigured for them from the blossom of a plant Harry couldn't remember the name of. Harry pulled her closer, and she melted into the embrace, melding her body to his.

Harry inhaled her unique fragrance, the heady aroma going up his nostrils and straight down to his cock. As it began to grow and lengthen in his jeans, he thought briefly of pulling away from her, worried he'd frighten her or offend her, but then he decided, to hell with it. She had to feel him, pressing against her, and she wasn't pulling away. Taking a huge risk, Harry pressed his lips to her neck. When she arched into the contact, he opened his mouth and tongued her flesh, kissing his way up to her ear.

Hermione groaned and turned to face him, and Harry expected that now she would come to her senses, tell him gently but firmly that she loved Ron and couldn't do this, and then pull away. Instead, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him soundly. With a tiny whimper in the back of his throat, Harry threw himself into the kiss, drowning in the heat of her body's contact with his. With a sudden flare of understanding, Harry realized that he had been aching for Hermione for some time now. He'd thought it was Ron he wanted, but now that she was in his arms and kissing him like she might devour him, he was forced to rethink the object of his desire.

Ron. Wait a minute. Ron was his best friend. Hermione was his best friend's girl. What was he doing? "Hermione," he said into her mouth.

"Harry, shush," she said without moving her lips away. "Don't think. Just feel."

With that, Harry felt her backing toward her bed, bringing him with her, their lips still attached. Harry went willingly. Ron was gone. They may never see him again, and he and Hermione were still here.

When they reached the bed, Hermione pulled him down on top of her. They settled themselves comfortably and resumed kissing. Hermione's hands slipped up under Harry's shirt, and her hot hands on his cool skin branded him like an iron. Returning the favor, Harry tugged up the edge of her jumper and rested his hands on her slim waist.

"Take it off," she requested.

Did she mean his or hers? When Harry lifted off of her enough to rip his own shirt over his head, she raised up and began to take pull her jumper off. Oh, she meant both. Harry assisted her when the jumper caught underneath her where she wasn't able to raise up enough. He looked down at her reverently, and she looked back with a happy twinkle in her eyes. Harry ran his hands over her bra, then lowered himself back onto her, his lips missing hers already. He thought he could happily kiss her forever and say to hell with horcruxes and Voldemort and Death Eaters. His hands came up to entwine in her hair and hold her head still. He kissed his way down her neck and buried his nose in the hollow between her breasts. Hermione pulled her bra up, releasing both of her breasts to his eager inspection.

Harry dropped his hands to her breasts, fondling both of them and rubbing his thumbs over the nipples. Hermione arched up into the contact, and Harry nosed his way over to the right one, tongued the hardened nipple, then sucked it into his mouth.

"Mmmm," Harry moaned into her flesh. "You are delicious."

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice rough with lust. "Get your pants off."

Harry was certainly willing to comply with that request, but that damn noble Gryffindor part of him made him pause. "Hermione?" he said, raising his mouth from his feast. "Are you sure?"

"Harry, I've wanted you forever," Hermione told him. "Even when I was with Ron. It was you."

That was all Harry needed. He stood up, undressed as quickly as he could, then helped Hermione out of her jeans. He lay back down on top of her, positioning his eager erection between her legs, rubbing himself sensually through her soft folds. "Oh Jesus, Hermione!" he breathed. "You're so hot and wet."

Hermione spread her legs, changing the angle and nearly causing Harry to shoot off before he even got inside her. He was close, so close, and he needed to fuck her very soon.

"Have you and Ron – ?"

"Yes, Harry. I'm not a virgin. Do it. Fuck me."

Her profanity shocked him and excited him in equal parts. Harry raised his hips enough to get his hand to the base of his erection, and he guided it into her wet heat. He sank in in one slow sensuous slide, and they both groaned.

"Harry!" Hermione moaned.

"I can't –" he gasped. "I need to move!"

Hermione thrust her hips up. "Then move," she ordered.

And Harry began to drive himself into her. He tried to be gentle, but he hadn't been with anyone for months, and he wanted her so badly. She urged him on, though, and he lost himself in the rhythm of the fuck until he exploded in her with so much force he actually saw stars. It seemed like he was never going to stop coming, and when he felt Hermione's orgasm milking him, he managed three more weak spurts before collapsing atop her.

"Holy shit!" he said, panting into her hair.

Hermione's arms went around Harry, and she held him tight. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

"Can we talk later?" he asked, satiated sleep stealing over him. They needed to talk, but he didn't think he could even approach coherent at the moment.

"Mmm. Sleep now, love," she said, and she carded her hand through his hair until Harry dropped into the most contented sleep he'd had in a long, long time.

##########

Harry awoke the following morning with Hermione's head on his chest and her hand wrapped around his morning wood. "Good morning," he muttered through the fog of sleep and arousal.

"Mmm, it is," she agreed. Before Harry even registered what she was doing, she slid to the end of the bed and took his cock into her mouth. Before he could protest that he hadn't even cleaned up yet from their bout of sex last night, she was forcing a teasing tongue underneath his foreskin, then pressing it flat against the sensitive vein underneath. Harry's hips snapped up in response, driving his prick deep into Hermione's throat and making her gag.

"Jesus, Hermione, I'm sorry!" Harry breathed.

Hermione accepted his apology by going down on him again and fondling his ball sac. Her movements up and down on his cock sped up, and when she reached a single finger down to rub at Harry's perineum and then beyond, he lost it, ejaculating up into her throat with a cry of "Here I –" before he found himself unable to speak any more.

Hermione kept her mouth affixed to his surging penis, and when Harry felt like he had no more to give, Hermione proved him wrong by sliding the tip of one finger into his anus. Harry bucked up off the bed then with a fresh surge of pleasure. He felt completely drained when he came back down.

"You are wicked," he said to her when she rejoined him at the head of the bed.

"I couldn't resist," she said. "Taste this." She pressed her mouth to his, and Harry could taste himself on her tongue, and he was overwhelmed by the naughty sensation of experiencing the flavor of his come on the tongue of this sensuous creature. Helpless to resist, his own tongue began foraging in her mouth, seeking out every drop of tang that she had wrung from his unprotesting body. Their kiss made his cock twitch as it tried valiantly to come to life yet again.

"You are going to wear me out," Harry told her, in no way complaining.

Hermione smiled and settled down at his side again, her head once again on his chest.

"You want me to return the favor?" Harry asked.

"Later," she said. "I just didn't want you to think that last night was an aberration brought on by grief over losing Ron. I _have_ wanted to do that forever, Harry."

Harry nudged her up so they were sharing the same pillow, lying on their sides, their noses almost touching. Harry suspected that his morning breath could drop a hippogriff, but then, so could hers. "So what you had with Ron – "

"Was real," Hermione said. "I really do love him. But I love you, too. I was conflicted about that, and I wanted to tell you, but the words just never came. And I wasn't sure how Ron would feel about a threesome."

Harry's cock gave a mighty leap at that word. "Wait a minute. You'd want to – with both of us?"

Hermione nodded. "I thought about it all the time," she confessed. "Ron's a great guy, despite the fact that he's currently on my shite list, and I love him and all, but he's rather . . . bland in bed. Too conservative. I used to fantasize about you, about the three of us being together, when we were making love. How do you feel about that, Harry? Does the thought of having sex with a man excite you or nauseate you?"

Harry thrust his hips forward so that she could feel for herself just how he felt about the topic. "I've had a thing for Ron for ages. You, too, I now realize."

"You never said anything to him?"

"I didn't want to destroy our friendship. He seems like the straightest bloke you could ever meet."

"Oh, yes," Hermione agreed. "There's not a gay bone in Ron's body."

"I had sex with a bloke once. Well, two actually," Harry confessed, his face coloring.

"Tell me about it."

"Summer after fifth year, I used to ride trains all 'round London. The Dursleys didn't care where I was, as long as I wasn't underfoot, so I'd just hop on a train and ride it 'til the end, then come back and hop on another. There was this grotty little diner in one of the tube stations – there were two waitresses there that I flirted with. They were older than me, had their own flat together. I went home with them a few times. One night, neither one of them was working, and I was going to just leave. But then this good-looking bloke came in. He was a university student, so a little older than me, had no idea who I was." Hermione knew what an attractive quality that was to Harry. "We got to talking. Before I even really knew what was happening, we were walking back to his flat. He had a roommate, and we . . . all did it together. They taught me a lot. It was incredible."

"You never told us any of this," Hermione noted, slightly accusatory.

Harry's shrug was limited by the fact that he was lying down. "Not exactly the kind of thing you'd go around bragging about."

"I'd like to hear all about it in detail some time," Hermione surprised him by saying. "So you'd had sex with a girl before last night?"

"Yeah. The two waitresses. Usually it was the three of us together. They liked that I was young and could get it up repeatedly. And then there was Ginny," Harry said. "Two times. Once at school, the week before Dumbledore died, and once this summer."

"At the Burrow?" Hermione asked, amazed they'd been able to find enough private time in that mad house.

Harry nodded. "In Arthur's shed. She really wanted to. I wasn't going to turn her down."

"Did you tell Ginny about the waitresses?"

"No. She thought I was her first. I obviously was _not_ her first, but we didn't talk about that, either."

Hermione looked into his eyes and asked, "How do you feel about Ginny now?"

Harry sighed. "Ginny's like from another life, another time. I like her just fine, but I don't know if I see her and I together when I think about my future. Not that I think about that a lot, since I probably don't have much of one. What about you? Has there been anyone other than Ron?'

Hermione nodded. "One boy I met last summer. Ron and I hadn't started dating yet. He was my first. Ron thinks _he_ was my one and only. He can be a little insecure, so I didn't tell him about . . . well, I never knew his name."

"Hermione!" Harry said with a playful air of shocked prudishness. "You had sex with a man whose name you didn't even know? _You _are a naughty girl."

"Says the bloke who's engaged in multiple orgies, including sex with two male strangers," Hermione shot back.

"Well, I at least knew their names. The birds were Theresa and Celeste, and the blokes were Chad and . . . someone else. Well, three out of four ain't bad." Harry smiled and pulled her close, almost unable to believe the developments in his life in the past twenty-four hours. Ron had left him, but he'd gained so much more in return. "I never knew you had this risque streak in you," he murmured into her ear.

Hermione gyrated her hips against Harry's. "It's later now, Harry. You can reciprocate now, if you'd like."

"Oh, I'd like," he assured her, and he began kissing his way down her body. He stopped when he reached his objective and knelt between her spread thighs. "You'll let me know what you like, yeah?" He'd discovered in his sexual explorations last summer that different women liked oral sex in different ways. Celeste had liked being penetrated, by fingers or a dildo, while being manipulated orally, though she couldn't tolerate direct stimulation of her clitoris. Theresa couldn't reach orgasm with something inside her, and required prolonged and constant contact with her clitoris in order to come. Harry had been happy to oblige – he found he liked the taste of women. He and Ginny hadn't ever had sex orally – their time had been limited, and she'd always been eager to get to the big finish.

"Lips and tongue, Harry," Hermione said. "You can't go wrong with lips and tongue."

"Yes, Professor," he said with a grin before pouncing on her eagerly. He burrowed his nose into the warm folds of her wet vagina, then drew back enough to explore with his tongue.

"That's nice, Harry," Hermione breathed, so Harry kept it up.

"You taste good," Harry hummed.

Hermione reached down between her legs with both hands and pulled the lips of her pussy apart, exposing her clitoris. She wiggled it back and forth with one finger and drew a breath in sharply. "Hot damn that feels good!"

Harry took over worshiping the little deity with his tongue, which had Hermione immediately writhing beneath him. "Oh, Harry. Just there. Yes! That feels – oh!" A large shudder wracked through Hermione's body, and Harry's tongue was bathed in a surge of sweet nectar. Hermione's legs tightened around his head, and Harry thought for a moment she was going to suffocate him. He kept his tongue in place, though, letting her ride out the last waves of pleasure. When she seemed to have finished, he looked up at her, his face shiny with her fluid, and asked, "All right?"

"No, I hated it," she deadpanned. Hermione motioned for him to join her again. "That was brilliant. Thank you." She reached down between Harry's legs and found his own raging need. "Your turn?"

"This could be a never-ending cycle," he mused, thrusting into her hand. "I get you off, then you get me off. Then I get you off."

"Or you could just fuck me. I'll likely come again then, and we can be even for a bit."

That sounded like a most reasonable plan, so Harry set about putting it in motion.

##########

"Mmmm," Harry said, arching into Hermione's touch. "I like that."

Hermione continued with her explorations. Harry was on his hands and knees. Currently Hermione had one finger buried in his arse and was working toward a second.

"That's good," Harry encouraged. "That's great lube you conjured. Now put two in. Yeah," he moaned in appreciation, "that's it. Twist them around. Yeah. Like that. Now scissor them. Have you done this before?" he asked, his tone playful.

"No, Harry," Hermione said with a giggle.

"Natural talent then," Harry guessed. "Do you know the prostate?"

"No, but I'd like to get better acquainted."

"That sounds like a great plan," Harry agreed. "Okay, stretch in as far as you can. You have such short fingers! That's good. A little more toward the . . . there! Oh, Jesus, there!" Hermione rubbed her finger back and forth over the nub, driving Harry crazy with desire. "Oh, Hermione. That's awesome. I'd give just about anything if you had a cock to drive up there."

Hermione pulled out of him, causing Harry to whimper. "Hermione!" he whined.

"Just a sec, love." She got up off the bed and rummaged in her pack. When she returned to the bed, Harry smelt the lube again, then felt something blunt, something much too large to be Hermione's fingers, press up against his hole.

"Hermione?"

"Hush, love. You'll like this."

And he did. A lot. Hermione pushed – whatever it was – slowly into his arsehole. She found his prostate on the first thrust, and he keened loudly.

"That good?" she asked hesitantly, afraid she'd hurt him.

"Better than good," he panted. "Do it again!"

And she did. Again and again. Her arm tired, and she charmed the dildo to move at the same pace and angle on its own. Her hand still slick with lube, she reached around to take Harry's penis in her hand. Harry bucked back and forth between the protrusion in his arse and Hermione's hand, making very undignified whimpering noises, until he couldn't take any more and he came all over her hand and himself and the bed below him.

He wanted to collapse onto the bed, but there was one thing he needed first. "Hermione," he gasped. "Get it out." The dildo was still moving, still striking over and over on his most sensitive spot, no longer pleasurable now that he'd found his release.

Immediately the fake cock stopped moving, and Hermione pulled it out carefully and cast a quick cleaning charm on it.

"What the hell _was _that?" Harry asked after he'd collapsed to the bed, then rolled onto his back, the pleasant ache in his arse reminding him how long it had been since he'd had a good buggering.

Hermione showed him. "I transfigured it out of a quill." "It" was a replica of Harry's cock and balls, identical in all detail except it was black. Harry took it from her hand and turned it over, examining it with a smile on his face. "This is brilliant, Hermione."

"Maybe next time I can figure out a way to strap it on," Hermione mused. "I'd kind of like to be the one pounding it into you."

Harry felt his tired cock twitch at that idea. "I like that you're kinky!" he said in appreciation.

"But I was thinking that right now, you could try it on me."

"You want me to use this to bugger you?"

"No, I want you to use this," she said, reaching over to stroke Harry's cock, "to bugger me."

Harry's prick leapt at the opportunity. "Are you sure? It's painful the first time."

"You'll be careful," Hermione said, completely trusting him.

"I will," Harry promised. "I'll prepare you very carefully."

And he did. Hermione insisted on a cleaning spell when Harry started with his tongue. Once he had her writhing and begging, he moved on to lubricated fingers, first one, then two, then three. Finally, she insisted she was ready, and Harry positioned himself behind her, reverently stroking the perfect globes of her arse.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

"Sorry. Admiring the view. A little more lube, I think," he mused. He stuck several fingers into the jar and began to rub them over his cock, enjoying this sensation in itself.

"Harry. Stop playing with yourself and get busy."

"Pushy bottom," Harry griped, but he stopped his self-ministrations and positioned himself at her entrance. "Okay, this is going to hurt. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Hermione swallowed loudly. "I'm sure," she assured him.

"All right. Here goes." And Harry began to push the head of his cock against her virgin arsehole. It was tiny, and Harry began to fear that he was just not going to fit, when finally, he breached her slightly. Hermione whimpered. "It's all right, love," Harry soothed, rubbing her lower back in comforting circles. "Any time you want me to stop, you just say the word. If you push back against me, it will help some."

Taking his advice, Hermione pushed back on the large protrusion filling her. When she did, the head of Harry's cock entered her diminutive opening. She felt as though she was being ripped open.

"Breathe, baby," Harry crooned. "Breathe and relax."

Hermione released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Just a little further," Harry said. "Once I get the head through, it's narrower, yeah? Just one more little . . . push." He backed the word up with a gentle nudge, and he slipped through the guardian ring of muscle. She gripped him so tightly, and he had to fight with every instinct in his body which was telling him to take her, roughly and now.

"You're right," she panted. "That's better."

"You're doing great, love," Harry praised. "Do you want to stop now?"

"No. No, keep going. Put it in more. It's all right."

Using a steady constant push, Harry pressed into her until his balls brushed gently against the back of her thighs. "I'm all the way in now. God, Hermione, you are so tight," he said, breathing quickly through his mouth to keep the tenuous hold he had on his control. "How do you feel?"

"Full," she said. "Stretched beyond belief."

"Is it good? Or do you hate it? I wish you had a prostate."

"It's . . . okay. Try moving, just a little."

Harry pulled himself halfway out, then pushed gently back in. He did that three more times, then stopped again, tormenting himself in the process. "What do you think?"

"I think it feels better and better all the time. It still feels really full, but I like the slide. You can move again if you want to."

"I want to, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose control and pound into you. You feel so good around me! I don't want to hurt you."

"We knew it would hurt the first time. I've a potion to help, if I'm sore after. Do what you have to do. I want you to."

Before he got down to business, Harry thought more lube was a good idea, and he pulled himself out of her. He stared down at her arsehole, still gaping open, as though grasping for his penis, and a wave of arousal stuttered through him. He quickly spread more lube on his aching cock and re-entered her in one smooth thrust.

"Oh," she said, the sound was half lust and half discomfort.

Seated deeply within her, Harry reached around and found her vagina, inserting a single finger into her folds. He was gratified to find her wet – he'd thought sure she would be unaroused and that he'd have to start with artificial lubrication. "You're wet," he said in pleased surprise.

"Told you I like it. Go ahead, Harry. Fuck me into the mattress," she goaded.

Harry growled, but before he started to move, he spent a moment stimulating her clitoris. "Think you can come with me?" he asked.

She groaned at his ministrations. "Yes. Do it, Harry!"

Keeping a finger planted firmly on her clit, Harry began to slide in and out of her at a much brisker pace. She exhorted him with breathy encouragement: "Oh yes! Oh there, Harry! A little faster. That's it. Pound into me. Oh, that feels heavenly. I wanna come, Harry. Come with me!" This last order he obeyed like a good little boy, and he felt the come being wrung out of his sputtering cock by her vise-like grip. With every spare bit of concentration he could muster, he kept his finger busy pleasuring her, and she went over the edge of ecstacy with him.

Afterward, they lay there panting, Harry still hard and still buried in her arse. He kissed her shoulder blade. "Want me to pull out?"

"No. I want you to stay in there forever," she said sincerely.

Harry chuckled. "That'll make the horcrux hunt a little more difficult, I expect. It's likely going to hurt when I come out. Are you ready?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Go."

Harry pulled out swiftly and surely. Like pulling a bandage off an open wound, going slowly would only prolong the agony. Hermione groaned when the head of his cock stretched her already-abused opening.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, worried.

She turned on her side to face him. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're so tiny."

"I'm sore. I won't lie and say it isn't so. But it's kind of a pleasant ache, you know?"

Harry knew. "So, you liked it?"

Hermione smiled. "I did."

"And you might like to do it again some time?"

"Yes, Harry. I'd like to do it again some time. But right now, I'd like to take a little nap. _After _you perform a cleaning spell and get me that potion I told you about."

##########

Harry lay miserably in his cot. Hermione was outside, keeping watch, for which he was glad, because he was still a little angry with her for what had happened to his wand. He knew he shouldn't be – if it hadn't been for her, they both likely would have died in that old house in Godric's Hollow. But his wand – it was useless, as good as gone. He sat up and took the pieces out again, staring at them in despair. He was distracted by Hermione pacing in front of the tent. Hastily, he stuffed the pieces back into the pouch around his neck. He was being ridiculous. It was just a wand, and Hermione was – Hermione had become everything.

"Hermione!" he called next time he saw her shadow fall across the tent.

Hermione stuck her head into the tent. "Everything okay?"

"Could you come here?" he asked.

She approached him slowly, fearful he was still upset with her. When he patted the bed next to him, she sat down.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been acting like a child. You're so much more important than any wand. Do you forgive me?"

"Oh, Harry," she said, drawing him into her embrace. "I'm sorry, too," she cried into his shoulder.

"Shhhh," Harry soothed, stroking her hair. "It's all right. _We're_ all right." He cupped her face with both his hands and lifted her face to his, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered. "You mean more to me than anything." And he brushed his lips over hers.

"I love you, too," she said into his mouth, and they gave themselves over to the kiss.

##########

"Hermione!" Harry called out to her, his giddiness at Ron's unexpected return and his near-fatal pitch into the icy waters and finding Gryffindor's sword and destroying the horcrux pitching his voice an octave or two higher than normal. "Hermione, come quick!"

Hermione burst out of the tent, her certainty that something must be wrong clearly evident on her furrowed face. She stopped short when she saw Ron, and her bottom jaw dropped.

"Hey," Ron said with a hesitant little wave.

"'Hey'?" Hermione repeated. "You desert us for weeks and then just turn up out of the blue, and all you can say is 'hey'?"

"I'm sorry?" Ron offered.

Hermione huffed and turned and stalked back into the tent.

Harry smiled weakly at Ron. "Let me go talk to her. Give us a minute."

As Harry walked slowly into the tent, his happiness began to dampen with the realization that his new relationship with Hermione was likely going to suffer as a result of Ron's return. It was entirely possible that now that Ron was back, this . . . _thing _they'd enjoyed together would end. He took a fortifying breath and stepped inside the tent. He closed the flap, cast a silencing spell, and sat beside Hermione on the bed. He took her hand in his, and she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Ron saved my life, Hermione. It's a really long story, but he saved me and he took the sword and destroyed the horcrux. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't come back when he did."

"Oh, Harry. I'm actually glad he's back. And I _really_ want to hear that story. But what happens to _us_ now?" Harry was relieved to discover that she had the same concern he did.

"I don't think I can just stop," Harry confessed. "I love you, Hermione."

"I know," she said with an encouraging squeeze of his hand. "You said you like blokes, right? And you said you had a thing for Ron once. So what if . . ." She stopped, not really sure how to word her unusual proposal.

"What if we invite Ron to join us?" Harry guessed, his heartbeat quickening at the mere thought.

"Does that creep you out?"

Harry lowered her hand to his lap, where he'd become half-hard at the idea. "Absolutely not. Wouldn't be my first threesome, now would it? How do you think he'll feel about it?"

"I've no idea," Hermione confessed. "He _is _very straight and conservative. But I won't give you up, and if he can't handle that, then . . ." She left that part unsaid.

"How do we tell him?"

"I think we have to just sit him down and tell him like it is. We're in too close quarters to sneak around and let him figure it out for himself."

"Perhaps you should do most of the talking," Harry suggested. "He might take this better coming from you."

##########

They sat in the tent, the three of them together again, and Harry told the story of the doe patronus that had appeared out of nowhere and how he had followed it to the puddle containing Gryffindor's sword. Ron took over the narrative here, describing how he had seen Harry go into the water and not come back out. Together they told Hermione what had happened when Harry opened the horcrux and Ron destroyed it. Then Hermione took over, telling Ron about their near-death experience in Godric's Hollow. Ron followed that up with details about where he'd been since leaving them, with news of snatchers and Dark Lord jinxes.

The telling took quite some time, and during the length of it, Ron cast repeated glances at his two friends, sitting side by side on one bed while he sat alone on another. They were touching, thigh to thigh, and Ron couldn't help but wonder if the apparition in the locket hadn't been partly right.

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence in the tent when everything that had happened during their separation had been told, everything but the most important.

"Some things changed while you were gone, Ron," Hermione began gently.

Ron gestured at them with his chin. "I can see that."

"We didn't plan it. It just happened," Harry said quietly, his eyes shining with sincerity.

"Was this going on before?" Ron asked, obviously afraid of the answer.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "Although I have to confess that I had . . . thought about Harry in that way. Ron, I love you. I still love you. But I love Harry, too."

"And you?" Ron asked, looking at Harry. "How do you feel?"

"I feel the same way she does," Harry told him, holding his friend's eyes. "About both of you."

"You mean . . ." Ron couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Yes," Harry said. "If that makes you uncomfortable, I'm sorry, but it's how I feel."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well," Hermione said, "if we all three want it, I don't see any reason why we can't just . . . be together."

"You mean like . . . like a threesome?" Ron asked, thinking how surreal this situation had become.

Hermione nodded. "Harry and I talked about it, how if you ever came back . . ."

"_When _you came back," Harry interrupted.

"When you came back," Hermione went on. "We'd want you with us. In every way possible."

Ron wanted to misunderstand what she was offering, but there was just no way to do so. He wasn't as bright as Hermione, but he wasn't stupid. He could see what they had between them and he knew perfectly well what they were offering him. He just didn't know if he wanted it. He loved Hermione, sure, and Harry, too, though not in that way, but this was . . .

"I'm not gay," he blurted.

"Neither am I," Harry said. "Not really. I like both. Could we just give this a try? See if we can make it work?" Harry really wanted this, for many reasons.

Ron stared at both of them. Everything inside him was telling him, _screaming_ at him, to say no. But he suspected that if he did, he would certainly lose Hermione as a girlfriend, and he'd likely lose both of them as friends. Oh maybe not today, but certainly at some point in the future.

"I could try, I guess," he finally said, clearly reluctant.

Hermione reached a hand out toward him. "Come here, Ron."

Ron very slowly got up and approached them. Harry and Hermione stood up, and Hermione transfigured the narrow bed into something much larger. Then she turned to Ron and began to undress him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, holding his eyes with hers.

Harry settled back on the bed, watching the two of them, getting nearly as aroused by watching as he would by touching them himself.

Hermione kissed Ron now, lips and tongues entangling in a remembered sharing of passion. Ron's large hands came up to cup her face as he devoured her mouth. On the bed, Harry unzipped his pants and pulled his semi-erect prick out, stroking it to full hardness as he watched the show put on by his friends.

Hermione pushed Ron's shirt off his shoulders. It fell to the floor unheeded. Her hands caressed up and down his back. Ron pulled Hermione's shirt off, then unhooked her bra and pulled it off. He pulled her into his embrace and held her tightly. "I missed you," he whispered into her ear.

"Me, too," Hermione assured him. "Take your pants off."

Ron cast a quick, uncomfortable glance at Harry on the bed, then looked back when his brain processed exactly what his friend was doing to himself. He wanted to feel interested or aroused, watching his best mate wank, but he felt nothing. The woman in his arms, on the other hand, was making him hard enough to pound nails. He really had missed her. He turned back to Hermione. If he focused on her, he'd be able to get through this.

Once they'd both stripped, Hermione led Ron to the bed and pulled him down. She lay beside Harry and kissed him, her hand covering his as it worked up and down on his cock. Ron made sure that she lay between him and Harry.

Harry could see how uncomfortable Ron was, and he nudged Hermione back toward him. She rolled so she was facing Ron, and they began to kiss again. She pulled her body flush with his, and he frotted against her, needy for her. "Hermione," he moaned.

That sound made Harry even harder, and he moaned in response.

Hermione guided Ron's cock between her legs, and he thrust himself back and forth in her wet folds. Hermione groaned and opened her legs wider. She felt Harry's hand on her hip, and she reached down with one of her own to cover it. She knew this needed to be about Ron now, but she felt bad about leaving Harry out of it completely.

"Hermione, I can't wait," Ron said urgently.

"All right, love." She shifted up to change the angle enough to allow Ron to slide up into her. They both groaned as he went in all the way in one firm thrust.

"I've missed you," Ron chanted as he began to move. "I've missed you."

Harry's hand moved faster on his cock as he watched them. He moved down the bed and raised Hermione's leg at the knee, which provided him with an excellent view of Ron's hard cock sliding in and out of Hermione's vagina, fluid spilling with every pull out of her heat. Harry wanted to reach up and taste, but he knew Ron wasn't ready for that yet. So he watched, and he pulled on his own prick, until finally Ron gave one almost violent thrust, burying himself as deep inside Hermione as he could go, and let loose with an ejaculation that had been building since he'd left them weeks ago.

Harry had learned Hermione's noises well in the time that they'd been together, and he knew that she'd come along with Ron, so he let himself go as well. Directing his cock at Hermione's arse cheeks, he painted her with spurts of pearly strings of come until he had no more to give.

They lay there panting, Ron and Hermione still joined, until Ron slipped out of Hermione with a rush of fluid. This was too good to waste, and Harry rolled Hermione onto her back and went to work, licking up every drop of their combined fluid until Hermione came again on his tongue. When he was finished there, he turned her over, licking up the remains of his own release.

Ron sat up on the bed, watching with horrified fascination that was nothing like arousal. He had the feeling that if he asked, Harry would turn his attention to Ron's come-covered cock and lick that clean as well. Ron's cock shriveled further at that thought. Harry met his eyes once, briefly, the invitation plainly written there, but Ron could only look away. Disappointed, Harry crawled up to lay on the other side of Hermione. He kissed her, knowing that she liked the taste of their shared flavor, then curled up at her side, and let sleep take him away.

##########

Harry sighed as Ron inched away from Harry's hand on the duvet. Ron had been back with them for more than month, and he still hadn't been able to let Harry touch him, let alone even considering touching Harry. Harry wanted him so badly, but he'd respected Ron's discomfort and the fact that he was even willing to get into the same bed with him, even if he did always keep Hermione between them.

The tension lessened slightly when Hermione entered the tent and smiled at them both. "Waiting for me, boys?"

"Always," Harry said, defeat evident in his voice. He was perfectly willing to share Hermione with Ron, but it didn't feel like sharing. It felt like Hermione having sex with Ron while Harry watched or participated on the sidelines. He and Hermione had talked in a private moment, and she'd confessed her frustration with Ron's continued intransigence, but she'd begged Harry to be patient, and he'd promised he would. He was beginning to wonder, however, if Ron was ever going to come around to having the type of relationship they'd envisioned when he returned.

Hermione thought the time had come to force the issue. To this point, she'd concentrated almost solely on Ron, hoping to slowly ease him into accepting Harry in their physical relationship. Poor Harry had been relegated to wanking beside them, and she hadn't had actual, real sex with Harry since Ron's return. She missed him, and she knew he missed her. Harry loved Ron and was being incredibly patient and supportive of his reluctance, and he deserved a reward for that.

"I found some berries and some bark," she told them, slipping out of her shirt. "I'll see what I can do with them later." She lost her pants on the way to the bed. Wearing only her underwear, she crawled onto the bed, surprising both of them when she went to Harry. She pulled her body along his until she was laying along his full length, and she pressed her mouth to his. Harry's arms came around her, holding her tight with relief and want.

"Can I get undressed?" Harry asked, thrusting his denim-covered erection up into Hermione's pubic bone.

"It would certainly simplify things," Hermione said playfully.

She rolled off of him, towards Ron, and Harry jumped to his feet and stripped in seconds. Hermione smiled at Ron and reached up to kiss him. "Join us?" she invited.

Ron clearly didn't think much of that idea, and he gave no answer. When Harry settled back onto the bed, Hermione went back to him, going directly to his groin and licking his straining erection. Harry groaned in satisfaction and pushed up, seeking more, wanting deeper.

Hermione stopped, the head of Harry's cock still in her mouth, and looked over at Ron. "Want a taste?" she asked. She pulled off of Harry and wrapped her hand around the base of his hard-on, waggling it at Ron. "It's delicious." She licked her lips enticingly.

Ron turned a very deep shade of red.

"Come on," Hermione urged. "At least come take a look."

Clearly reluctant, Ron slowly dragged himself down the bed and positioned himself at least two feet away from them. Hermione pointed Harry's cock at him again. "Hmmm?" she asked.

Ron shook his head emphatically no.

"You don't know what you're missing," she said. She looked up at Harry and could see the disappointment at his friend's refusal in his eyes. Perhaps she could make him forget. She devoted herself to giving Harry the best blow-job he'd ever had, and she succeeded in forcing the come out of him in record time.

Ron watched, his interest only in when she'd finish and turn her attention to him. When Harry lay there panting, Ron returned to the head of the bed, certain it was now his turn. Instead, Hermione returned to Harry's mouth and kissed him. Harry hardened again immediately when she used her tongue to force the come she'd held in her mouth into his. He moaned into her licentious mouth. Without breaking the hold she had on his mouth, she slid atop him and impaled herself on his newly-rampant erection.

Ron, feeling left out and more than a little angry with both of them, slid off the bed and left the tent as Hermione rode Harry to orgasm again.

##########

But Ron got the message. The following evening, when bedtime arrived, he engaged with Hermione first, before she could go to Harry and repeat last night's performance. But Hermione wasn't going to let it be that simple any more.

She let him lead until he crawled on top of her and slid into her wet heat. While he was distracted thrusting into her, she reached a hand out to Harry, and when he took it, she pulled him toward them. Willingly, he rolled until he was touching them. Ron, busy with his task, didn't notice. Harry nudged his hard cock into Hermione's thigh and reached out with one hand to caress Ron's arse. Perhaps Ron assumed it was Hermione's hand, or perhaps he didn't notice the hand at all, and he continued to pound into Hermione obliviously.

Harry marveled at the strength of the muscles rippling beneath his hand as Ron fucked Hermione. Finally, finally, he was touching Ron, and moments after Ron reached his climax inside his girl, Harry came helplessly against their legs, his hand clenching Ron's arse cheek.

Ron's afterglow didn't prevent him from figuring out what was happening. In disbelief, he reached a hand down and ran it through the streaks of come on his leg. A look of revulsion washed over his face, and he jumped up from the bed, pulling his still semi-hard prick out of Hermione, causing her to protest the rough treatment.

"You . . . you touched me!" he said, glaring at Harry. "You _came _on me!"

Harry had no idea what Ron needed to hear to deter him from the monumental freak-out he was apparently about to have, so he remained silent.

"Ron," Hermione said reasonably, sitting up. "You knew this was what we wanted. You said you were okay with it."

"I thought I was," Ron said, panting. "I thought I could . . . But I can't, Hermione! I just can't. I'm not . . . I'm not gay! We had something good, before. I want _that_ back. Why can't we have that back, Hermione?"

Harry drew himself up into a ball and sat with his back to the headboard. Ron couldn't even look at him now. He was watching the disintegration of the very first friendship he'd ever had. All because he couldn't keep his hands and his cock to himself.

"Things have changed, Ron."

"So they can change back! I love you, Hermione. I know I haven't said that before, but it's true. I want you! I don't want . . ." He waved a hand vaguely at the bed, "this."

"But _I_ do, Ron," Hermione countered. "I love you, but I love Harry, too. And I won't give him up."

"Well, it's either him, or me," Ron stated, drawing himself up to his full, considerable height, and crossing his arms over his chest. "You choose. I can't keep pretending that I want this, just to please you."

"Ron," Hermione said, her voice low with warning. "Don't make me choose."

"I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be. You can have him, or you can have me, but you can't have us both."

"Then I choose Harry," she said quietly but firmly.

Ron's knees nearly buckled in shock. He'd thought that what he had before with Hermione would be enough to make her choose him. "Hermione!" he gasped.

"I told you not to make me choose," she said. "It's not too late. We can pretend this never happened."

Maybe _she _could, but neither of the males in the room thought it was possible. Both felt too betrayed, Harry by Ron's rejection and Ron by Hermione's choice.

"No. It's too late," Ron said, his voice a cracked whisper. He crossed the tent and began to pack his bag.

"Ron," Harry pleaded. "Don't go. We need you. I'm . . . sorry."

Ron glared at Harry. "You don't need me. I'm too stupid to help with the horcruxes, and you sure as hell don't need me in bed."

"Please," Harry tried again. "Ron, you're my best mate . . ."

"Some best mate you turned out to be," Ron flung at him. "The minute my back is turned, you're fucking my girl."

There was too much truth in that accusation for Harry to deny it, so he didn't.

Ron slung his pack over his shoulder.

"So you're just going to leave? Again?" Hermione charged.

"Seems to be the only thing left to do. Good luck with the hunt."

And he left them. Harry turned to Hermione, and they embraced, and when they heard the sound of Ron apparating away, they both began to cry.

##########

They got used to Ron's absence again. They were glad he wasn't with them when they were captured by snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. If Dobby hadn't appeared when he did, they knew they would both be dead. The brave little elf had taken Luna and Mr. Ollivander to Bill and Fleur's cottage. When he'd returned for Harry and Hermione and Griphook the goblin, he'd taken a knife to the chest but still somehow managed to apparate them to Grimmauld Place. As soon as Hermione realized where they were, she'd apparated them all away again, and they'd landed back where they'd been captured. Amazingly, their tent was still there, secure within the enchantments that kept it invisible. Harry immediately set about reinforcing those protections. Then, while Hermione tended to the goblin's injuries as best she could, Harry cried over Dobby's lifeless body. Once Hermione had Griphook stabilized, she and Harry had buried Dobby in a clearing with all the honor and pomp they could muster with their meager possessions.

And then they began to plot with the goblin the impossible task: breaking into Gringotts. Harry remembered back to when he'd first met Hagrid. The giant man had told him that it was madness to try to break into Gringott's, and Harry suspected he was probably right. But their options were limited. They'd run out of other ideas, and this at least gave them purpose.

The fact that they were successful, against all odds, astounded both of them. But they had no time to revel in their triumph. Voldemort was closing in on Hogwarts.

##########

It had already been an eventful night. Harry and Hermione had apparated to Hogsmeade, immediately setting off an alarm. They would likely have been caught by a band of roving Death Eaters if they hadn't been rescued by Aberforth Dumbledore. The shock of meeting the Headmaster's brother had been superseded by seeing Neville, dear sweet Neville, who looked hardened now, like the survivor of a nasty prolonged battle he was.

And then people started arriving in the revamped Room of Requirement, and one of the very first to step through the portrait tunnel was Ronald Weasley. Harry's breath caught in his throat when he spotted his friend, and he offered a tentative smile. He didn't know where Ron had been for the past few months, and they certainly didn't have time to catch up now.

Harry felt fortified, ready to take on anything, when Ron smiled hesitantly back. They approached each other slowly and shook hands. Harry wanted to pull Ron into a hug, but he remembered the way Ron had recoiled from his touch, and he restrained himself.

"Everything okay?" Ron asked.

"It's much better now," Harry said, and he knew he was grinning, which was more than a little inappropriate given the circumstances, but he couldn't seem to stop.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said.

"Hey, Ron," she answered with a soft smile.

"So, what are we doing?" Ron wanted to know.

They'd decided to split up. Harry went up to Ravenclaw Tower with Luna to attempt to find Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem. What he found was trouble, first in the form of Alecta Carrow and then her brother, Amycus. The arrival of Minerva McGonagall had bolstered Harry immeasurably, and he'd used an unforgivable, one he'd actually meant this time. It had felt good, and he didn't have the time to examine why that made him nervous right now.

As they'd raced down the stairs, intent on their plan to get as many students as possible out of the school, Snape had appeared, and Harry had been nearly consumed with hatred. He'd wanted so badly to try out his new-found appreciation for the Dark Arts again, but Professor McGonagall had driven Snape off before he got the chance.

Harry returned to the Room of Requirement, where he immediately spotted Ginny. He was stunned when he realized just how little he'd thought about her over the past few months. He'd thought she was the one he wanted to spend his life with, but now that he'd found Hermione, what he had with her made him realize that what he'd thought he had with Ginny paled in comparison.

Inspiration had struck Harry when he'd figured out that the ghost of Ravenclaw may hold the answers he needed. She had led him to his own memory of hiding a book and placing a wig and a beat-up crown atop the cupboard, so that he could find that precious book again some day.

But before he did anything else, there was someone he needed to talk to.

##########

Harry made his way into the Headmaster's office, which was eerily quiet. The portraits lining the walls all appeared empty – their subjects must be elsewhere in the castle, monitoring the battle and the evacuation. There was only one portrait he cared about, and he made his way behind the Headmaster's desk and stared up at the empty frame.

"Professor!" he called, his voice sounding amplified in the empty office. "Professor Dumbledore, are you there? It's Harry! I could really use your help, sir."

Harry waited. Nothing. "Professor?" he tried again.

Again, nothing. He was just about to give up when a familiar old man appeared from the right side of the frame. Tears of relief prickled in Harry's eyes. "Professor!"

"Harry!" Dumbledore said, beaming down at him. "Dear boy! It is so good to see you!"

"It's great to see you, too, sir. Look, I don't have a lot of time, and I need some answers. You're the only one that can give them to me."

"Have you seen Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his tone urgent.

"What? Snape?" Harry asked, confused.

"_Headmaster _Snape," Dumbledore corrected gently.

Harry couldn't believe that Dumbledore was insisting on showing respect for Snape, after all the man had done. "I don't have time for this, _Headmaster_," Harry emphasized the honorific to demonstrate to Dumbledore that there was only one man he considered worthy of the title.

"Have you seen Severus, Harry? It's important."

"I saw him briefly. Just before he jumped out a window and flew away."

Dumbledore sighed. Harry watched him think, calculate.

"Headmaster, if you know anything useful, now would be a really good time to tell me. I've figured out where the last horcrux is, aside from Nagini. Once I destroy it, and the snake, Voldemort will be vulnerable. But I feel like I'm still missing pieces of the puzzle. I don't want to face him not knowing if it will be the end of him if I'm able to kill him."

"Harry, sit," Dumbledore said. "I've a lot to tell you. My sincere apologies for not sharing this information with you earlier. I know it would have made your task easier, but I had my reasons. I will not waste time with them now. This is what you need to know."

And he told him: how Snape had come to him so many years ago, overwrought and afraid, conveying a warning that the woman he'd loved since childhood was in danger; how distraught Snape had been when Lily had been killed despite his warning; how Snape had vowed to keep Lily's only child safe as a means of making penance; how Snape had been sent back into the snake's lair following Voldemort's return and how he'd spent the last three years of his life walking a knife's edge between the dark and the light; how Dumbledore had been cursed by Gaunt's ring, a curse which would have proven fatal almost immediately if Snape hadn't bought him several more months; how Snape had had to make an unthinkable vow with Draco Malfoy's mother; how Dumbledore had coerced Snape into the plan that would ultimately end the Headmaster's life. And then he'd told Harry the absolute worst bit of news: that Harry himself was a horcrux and that if there was any chance of defeating Voldemort, Harry must sacrifice himself.

Harry sat, unable to move, his brain struggling to comprehend the two stunning facts the Headmaster had revealed: Snape was now, and always had been, loyal to Harry; and Harry must die today.

"I am sorry, Harry," the Headmaster said after a long moment of silence. "I should have told you. I wish that the situation was different. I wish that I was wrong."

Harry held up a hand to silence the Headmaster. It was a little late for apologies and second thoughts. Dumbledore let him stew for another moment before adding, "Harry, if you encounter Severus, you must trust him. He _is_ on your side, and he will help you in whatever way he can. He has information for you, too. I fear that you will not see him before events become critical, which is why I have shared what I have with you."

Harry stood up. He couldn't stay here any longer. If he was going to have to die, he'd better get to it. The more he thought about it, the more likely he was to run screaming from here, his Gryffindor bravery in tatters.

"Good luck, Harry," Dumbledore said after Harry had shut the door.

##########

While Harry had been running about the castle, Ron and Hermione had descended into the Chamber of Secrets and retrieved an armful of basilisk fangs, using one to destroy Hufflepuff's cup. Harry had applauded their ingenuity, and had then filled them in on everything he had learned from Dumbledore as they made their way up to the Room of Requirement. They were horrified by the news, but had no time to deal with it, as they'd arrived at the Room of Requirement.

Dealing with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, and then with the Fiendfyre, had consumed the better part of an hour. Fred's death left them all reeling, but they had to put that aside – Voldemort was summoning Snape to the Shrieking Shack. His unsuspected protector and the man who was destined to kill him, both in the same building – this was obviously where Harry needed to be.

##########

Under cover of his invisibility cloak, Harry made his way through the much-smaller-than-he-remembered tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. When he reached the end of it, he heard the voices of the two men he'd have sworn an hour ago he hated more than any other in the world. One of them still held that title, but the other – the other caused a cacophony of conflicting emotions in Harry that he wished he had time to untangle. The bottom line was that, despite everything, he trusted Albus Dumbledore, even now, and he believed that Snape, though always a bastard, had been doing his best to protect Harry and assist the Light in its battle against Voldemort. Harry peered through the small space left by a large box blocking the end of the tunnel.

He watched the scene before him through different eyes than he would have mere hours ago. He watched as Snape begged Voldemort to be allowed to go out and find Harry Potter, Harry now knowing that Snape had memories he needed to share before it was too late. He watched as Voldemort tried to puzzle out the age-old mystery of the Elder Wand and came to erroneous conclusions. And he watched in complete horror as Nagini attacked Snape. He watched Snape fall to the floor, and Voldemort sail from the room as though nothing had happened.

Harry hurriedly but as quietly as possible levitated the crate blocking the entrance out of his way and pulled himself through the hole onto the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He threw aside the invisibility cloak and crawled to Snape's body. He knelt beside the dying man and pressed a hand to the gaping, profusely bleeding wound at his neck.

"Take it . . ." Snape rasped. "Take it . . ."

"No," Harry said. He knew Snape was referring to the memories that were positively leaking from the man, but he knew what they contained, and they didn't have time for that. "No. I know already. Hermione! What do I do?!"

Hermione crawled up beside them.

"Take it . . . please," Snape said again, a bubble of blood expanding from his mouth and then popping as he spoke.

Hermione handed Ron a vial. "Ron, collect the memories." It would soothe Snape, she assumed, to feel as though he was discharging his final duty, and the less agitated the man was, and the less he moved around now, the more chance they had of saving his life.

"Harry, we need to slow the bleeding." Hermione remembered the difficulties the healers had had when Arthur Weasley had been attacked. She conjured a thick white bandage, folded it into a square, and handed it to Harry. "Press this to the wound."

Harry did as she bid.

"Got 'em," Ron said, capping the vial which now contained a swirling silvery substance. Harry took it from him.

"You two go get Madam Pomfrey. Find her and bring her here now!"

"We're not leaving you here alone, Harry," Hermione argued.

"Hermione, we don't have time to argue about this. He needs a healer, now! I don't care what Pomfrey is doing – stun her if you have to, but get her here quickly. I will _not_ let him die. I'll be fine here. There's no reason why Voldemort would come back here. I'll ward the door after you leave. Go!"

Not liking this one bit, but seeing the wisdom of his argument, Hermione jumped to her feet and followed Ron back up the tunnel.

As soon as they'd gone, Harry sat on the floor, still pressing the bandage to Snape's neck. He gently lifted Snape's head and eased it into his lap. Snape's eyes blinked open. "Potter," he croaked.

"Yes, it's me. You need to stay with me, okay? Hermione's gone for help. You hang on, all right?"

"The memories. You need . . . to see . . ." Speaking was difficult around the blood welling up in Snape's throat.

"Shhh. Don't speak. I know. I know about the memories. I spoke with Dumbledore. He told me everything. I know about you and my mother. I know . . . everything. You've been trying to help me. And I'm not going to let you die on me now. You have to live so I can thank you properly."

Snape closed his eyes, relieved that he hadn't totally failed. Potter knew. He felt the boy's hand petting his hair gently, and he settled into the contact. He knew he was going to die, and that was certainly not a surprising outcome – he'd expected this. But he was surprised by how much he didn't want to die alone on the floor of this Godforsaken place, and even if it was Harry Potter who was here to usher what was left of his soul into the afterlife, he'd accept it.

With what he thought might be his last breath, he said, "Look at me." He would die looking into the eyes of the only person he'd ever loved. Maybe he would find her in whatever next life he ended up in, so that he could apologize to her. Maybe she'd even accept it. Maybe.

Harry's green eyes, wet with tears he was very close to shedding, met Snape's of onyx. He tried to see the mother, but faced with the cold reality of her son, it was Harry and only Harry that stared at him now.

Harry knew why he'd requested that Harry look at him. He brought a hand to Snape's cheek and caressed him gently before slapping him, still gently. This startled Snape and made him marginally more alert. "No! You do _not _get to take the easy way out," Harry said fiercely. "I still need help here, and you're the only one who can do it. You have to stay with me. Please. I don't want anyone else to die."

And then they heard the high, cruel voice of Voldemort, giving Harry an hour to come to the forest, and Harry knew that this was it. This was where he sacrificed himself, so that everyone else could live. He hoped Pomfrey hurried up – he didn't want to leave Snape alone here, but if they didn't come soon, he'd have to go.

"You can't . . ." Severus spat.

Harry's hand returned to Snape's cheek and caressed it softly. "I must. This has to end. And I'm the only one that can end it."

Snape hadn't the strength to argue with the stubborn boy, and he collapsed back into Potter's lap. Moments later, Harry heard the sound of movement in the tunnel, and he pointed his wand at the entrance, ready to hex anyone who came through that wasn't a friendly. Relief washed through him when Hermione's familiar, beloved head popped into the room.

Behind her was Poppy Pomfrey, who stood in the room and looked at Harry and Severus on the floor, then turned on Hermione.

"You said it was Potter that was injured!"

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, but I needed to get you here, and I didn't think you'd come if you knew who needed help."

"Please, Madam Pomfrey. He was bitten. By Nagini," Harry said from his place on the floor.

The mediwitch began searching through the pockets of her robe. Eventually, she pulled out a vial. "Severus created an anti-venin," she explained, holding up the vial for their inspection. "When I knew that _he _was here, I figured the snake was likely with him, so I made sure I had several vials on me, just in case. Harry, get up from there."

Harry gently lowered Snape's head to the floor. He could see that the man was still breathing, but the life was slowly but surely ebbing out of him and onto the floor. Harry stood and edged away from the rest of them, picking up his cloak as he did so. While their attention was centered on Poppy's life-saving treatment, Harry quietly slipped the cloak over his head and slipped back into the tunnel. He wanted to say goodbye to Hermione, to tell her how much he loved her, but he knew she'd argue, and he didn't have time. He _had_ to do this, for Hermione, and for Snape, and for the Weasleys, and for everyone else.

Poppy dropped to her knees and opened the vial, pouring it into Snape's mouth and then holding his jaw closed until he'd swallowed. She removed the bandage Harry had been holding and replaced it with a clean one that she conjured.

Severus' eyes blinked open, and he sought out Granger. "Don't . . . let him go," he gasped out.

Hermione looked around frantically, but it was too late. Harry was gone.

##########

Well, that had been an interesting end to the day from hell. Harry had gone into the forest, intending to sacrifice himself to Voldemort, hoping that Dumbledore was right and that that would end this somehow, so that no one else would have to die. Instead of outright dying, Harry had found himself in a weird approximation of King's Cross Station, chatting with an ethereal Albus Dumbledore about the Deathly Hallows. Harry was quite pleased to learn that he had the option to not be dead, and that he could likely be not-dead minus that bit of Voldemort's soul that he'd been carrying around with him for the past sixteen years. No wonder he'd been so tired!

It took little thought for him to decide to return. One thought of Hermione, and he was ready to go, regardless of what might be facing him immediately upon his rebirth. That had turned out to be a stunned Voldemort and a circle of concerned Death Eaters. Playing dead, an act surprisingly reinforced by Narcissa Malfoy, had bought him enough time to get back to Hogwarts and make his stand – a stand which had been successful.

Voldemort was gone, Bellatrix had joined him in hell, and many of his loyal supporters were dead or captured. After Harry's simple expelliarmus had ended the bastard, Harry had fallen to his knees, completely exhausted. When he'd felt arms surrounding him, and knew by the scent that he was safe in Hermione's embrace, he turned into her familiar heat and allowed the tears to come.

##########

The post-victory celebration raged in the Great Hall. Harry would like to be elsewhere, but he knew that his presence here was necessary to all those who needed to see him, their reluctant savior, to talk to him, to touch him. He'd finally been able to get some sleep, but he still felt weary to the bone. He guessed it would be awhile before that feeling went away. He'd been doing his best to catch up on eating since he'd disposed of Voldemort, and it was a very nice feeling to have a full belly. He sat on a bench, his back against the wall, with Hermione by his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Tired, hon?" he asked.

"Mmm."

"Didn't you get any sleep last night?" Harry had slept in his old bed in the Gryffindor dorm. Hermione had bunked in with Ginny.

"Not much. Ginny and I . . . talked."

"Oh." Harry felt a small amount of guilt. He'd seen Ginny looking at him several times today, her eyes large and sad. When he'd gone off to hunt for horcruxes, it had been with the understanding that when he returned, he and Ginny would pick things up where they'd left off when he insisted on breaking up with her. So much had happened since then. He no longer wanted Ginny, but he'd never wanted to hurt her, and it troubled him that he had. "How was that?"

"It was awkward. She was a friend, and I feel guilty about taking you away from her."

"You didn't," Harry protested. "We can't help what happened. I feel bad for Ginny, but she'll get over it."

Hermione sighed. "I know. But I can't help the guilt."

"Wanna get out of here and go check on Snape?" Harry asked. Soon after Voldemort's body had been removed from the Great Hall, he'd inquired about Snape and learned that the man had survived and was in the hospital wing receiving treatment for his wounds. He was expected to make a full recovery, though it would be a long process.

"Sure."

Harry stood up and offered Hermione a hand. When she was on her feet, they began the difficult trek through the crowd to the door. They didn't get far before they ran into Ron.

"Hey," the tall redhead said, his eyes flicking to Harry and Hermione's clasped hands.

"Hey," Harry said in return. "How's your mum?"

Ron sighed. "She's about as well as can be expected. She and Dad are finalizing the funeral plans."

"You'll be sure and let us know when . . ."

"Of course," Ron assured him.

"Listen, Ron, about . . ." Harry stopped, not sure how to proceed. He'd been so happy to have his friend back for the last couple of days, and he didn't want to lose him again.

"Don't, okay?" Ron requested. "I can't. It's just too weird. You two just . . . I hope you're happy together."

Harry smiled sadly. "I'd like to still be friends, if you think you can do that."

"I don't know," Ron said honestly. "I just don't know. Aside from what happened between us, you hurt my sister."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about that, Ron. I'm sorry about how people got hurt. But I'm not going to say I'm sorry about what happened." He looked down at Hermione.

Ron shrugged. "You made your bed. Lie in it." And he walked away.

"Let's go, Harry." Hermione tugged on his hand and they continued their journey to the door.

##########

"He should recover fully," Madam Pomfrey assured them. "His own creation saved his life. After Arthur Weasley was attacked by Nagini, Severus set to work on an antidote. If I hadn't had that available to give to him, he would not have survived."

"Has anyone been here asking about him?" Harry asked. "Anyone from the Ministry?"

"The Ministry is in disarray currently, as you might imagine." Poppy bustled about, straightening and smoothing Snape's sheets. "Minerva told me that she fears that as soon as the remaining members of the Wizengamot get themselves together long enough to elect an acting Minister, their first order of business will be to come after Severus."

"We can't let them take him away," Harry said. "If they do, they'll lock him away and we'll never see him again. We owe him everything."

"There are ample reasons for the Ministry to want to question him, Harry. You weren't here this last year. I understand that there may have been reasons for some of the things he did, but . . ."

"No buts, Madam Pomfrey!" Harry interrupted her. "You don't know the whole story. No one does. And if they take him away, we'll waste valuable time getting him back and the story may never come out. When can he be moved?"

Poppy looked down at her patient. "He's really quite stable. He'll be in a coma-like state while his body heals for some time to come, and then he'll need some time to recuperate and build up his strength, but I suppose he could be moved any time. Why? What are you thinking?"

"I want to get him out of here, before they can think to come looking for him."

"Where will you take him?"

Harry looked at Hermione. "Grimmauld Place?"

"They can get in there, Harry."

"They can," Harry agreed. "But they'll have to go through me. Can we do it?" he asked, turning back to Madam Pomfrey.

"I'll get him ready."

"I'm going to go find Professor McGonagall and let her know what's going on," Harry said. "I'll be back shortly. Hermione, would you stay here, just in case someone comes?"

"Of course, Harry." Hermione drew a chair up next to the ailing Professor's bed and sat down, her back to the wall, her wand clasped loosely in her hand.

##########

When Harry returned, Minerva was with him.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said. "You're here. You support this move?"

"Yes, Poppy. Everything will come out in the next few days. Severus is . . . well, innocent would probably be going too far, but he was instrumental in bringing down the Dark . . . Voldemort. His actions over the last year here will not earn him any friends, but it was all a necessary part of the proceedings. We would not be free today were it not for Severus. But if we allow the Ministry to get their hands on him now, they may very well kill him."

"Do you have any idea who might be appointed acting Minister?" Hermione asked.

"Rumor has it that Kingsley Shacklebolt is being strongly considered. He would be a fine choice. His work as an auror and his physical bearing will lend a sense of strength and firmness to the position that the people will be looking for as we try to rebuild after so many years of violence and strife."

"Will he be sympathetic to Severus' position?" Harry asked.

"I believe he will be willing to listen to all of the facts. We have Albus' supporting testimony, which will mean more to Kingsley than it would to someone who was not a member of the Order, certainly."

Harry sighed. "If we take him to Grimmauld Place, will you help me with the wards? They fell that day we infiltrated the Ministry. We'll need them back up if we're going to stay there."

"We'll do it now, while Poppy gets Severus ready."

##########

It had taken two hours to raise wards sufficient to satisfy Minerva. Once they were as strong as they could get them, Severus, still unconscious, was moved to Grimmauld Place. Poppy brought with her a carpet bag full of potions and a long list of instructions on how to care for him. Harry let Hermione handle that – she was better at that sort of thing. Minerva and Poppy left them to it, and Harry and Hermione became Severus Snape's caregivers and protectors.

##########

Hermione awoke on their first morning of their new life together to find the bed beside her empty, which was unusual. She stretched luxuriantly. It was over – it was finally over. Voldemort was gone, the immediate post-celebration frenzy was past, left behind them at the bedlam that was Hogwarts. They were safe (relatively), warm and dry and well-fed, and Hermione felt happier than she could ever remember feeling.

She sat up in the bed with two purposes: to begin the process today of bringing her parents home and restoring their memories, and to find Harry. This latter quest was helped along when she heard the sound of singing. Curious, she got out of bed, slipped into her house coat, and left the bedroom.

"_Seventy-six trombones led the big parade,"_ Harry bellowed from the shower. "_With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand. They were followed by rows and rows of the finest virtuosos. The cream of every famous band."_

Standing in the hallway beside the bathroom door, Hermione smiled as she listened to Harry belt out the tune. She went down the stairs to start breakfast, accompanied by Harry's musical stylings. "_There were more than a thousand reeds, springing up like weeds, there were horns of every shape and kind."_

##########

When Harry entered the kitchen to find plates of food already on the table. Hermione couldn't help but smile at him impishly.

"What?" Harry asked after he'd kissed her good morning.

"You were . . . singing in the shower."

Harry felt the blush creeping up his cheeks. "Sorry," he muttered. "Old habit."

"Don't be sorry. I quite enjoyed it. It was nice. You sing well. Old habit, you say? I've never heard you do that."

"Well, haven't seen that many showers since we've been together, have we?" Harry pointed out. "It's the only place I do it. You could ask Ron – I'm sure he's heard me in the showers at Hogwarts."

Thinking about Ron in the shower had taken on a whole new meaning for Harry, and he blushed harder, for different reasons. To dispel the uncomfortable feeling, Hermione asked, "What is it you were singing?"

"Seventy-six Trombones," Harry told her. "It's from a Broadway musical called The Music Man."

"And how do you come to know show tunes?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Aunt Petunia had a collection of Broadway show tunes from the forties, fifties, and sixties. She used to listen to them every day, as soon as Uncle Vernon was out of the house. He was very suspicious of anything American, but Aunt Petunia sure loved her music collection. She played them over and over and over. I don't really know the words to any songs but those."

"Well, I quite like it, and I hope to hear some more of your showstoppers," she smiled encouragingly. After a moment of silence, punctuated only by the clink of forks on plates and cups being set back down on the table, Hermione asked, "Do you miss them?"

"What, the Dursleys? No," he said honestly. "Not one little bit. I hope they're okay, wherever they are, and I hope that they get to go back home now, because I know how much they loved that stupid house, but I don't miss them. Not at all."

"I miss my parents," Hermione admitted, her voice breaking just a little. "Now that it's over, I want to see about getting them back."

"Let's floo Minerva this morning," Harry suggested, covering her hand with his and squeezing gently. "I bet she can help."

Hermione smiled. "I'm going to shower," she said, jumping up, in her excitement forgetting she'd not finished her breakfast. "Once I'm dressed, we'll talk to her."

Minerva did have suggestions, the first being that they task an Order member with retrieving Hermione's parents and restoring their memories. Though she wanted badly to see her parents as soon as possible, Hermione realized that there was no benefit to her going herself, as her parents wouldn't even recognize her, and she knew she was needed here.

Two days later, word arrived that the Grangers were back in Britain. Hermione's presence was requested at the memory restoration, to help to explain to the very confused couple exactly what was going on. She spent three hours away from Grimmauld Place, and when she returned, a happy smile was plastered on her face. Her parents remembered her! She'd been afraid that she had messed the spell up and that the memory loss would be permanent, but healers had performed the spell reversal, and it was immediately obvious that Hermione's parents remembered her. Following hugs and tears, the entire story needed to be told, and Hermione then left her parents to the task of beginning to get their lives back on track.

##########

Seven days after arriving at Grimmauld Place, Severus was still unconscious, though Madam Pomfrey assured them that he was better every day. Harry and Hermione cared for him as best they could with their limited medical training. Hermione handled the potion regimen, and Harry handled hygiene – cleaning spells, changing pajamas, and putting fresh sheets on the bed. They sat with Snape for several hours a day, talking to him and reading to him, hoping for some sign that he was emerging from his coma-like state.

They had no visitors with the exception of Poppy Pomfrey, who came every other day to briefly check on Severus' condition, and Minerva McGonagall, who came to bring them news. As expected and hoped for, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named acting Minister of Magic, and he approached Minerva exactly one week after Voldemort's demise to ask her where Severus Snape was. She refused to divulge his location and provided him with access to Albus Dumbledore's portrait. Kingsley spent two hours with the portrait, and when he emerged, he was convinced that Severus had been working on the side of the light for many, many years. He'd suspected as much – as a member of the Order, he'd worked with Snape, although the last year had forced doubt into his mind about Severus' true loyalties. Dumbledore, even in death, was very convincing.

Though he was convinced of Severus' overall loyalties, Kingsley thought the man had a lot to answer for, both for acts committed in the last year and for things he'd done during the time he'd been a full-fledged Death Eater. He demanded that Minerva produce Severus, immediately, or she would be arrested for obstructing the investigation into the events surrounding the downfall of Lord Voldemort and the goings-on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during the last year.

Minerva asked Shacklebolt for one day to consider his request. Out of respect for her and her position, he gave that to her. Minerva flooed immediately to Grimmauld Place after Kingsley left her office.

##########

"Do you think he was serious?" Hermione asked afer she'd served tea to the new Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"He seemed very serious," Minerva told her. "I am not concerned about his threat, per se. I am a bit concerned about how serious he seemed to be that Severus be turned over to them for questioning."

"Did you explain that the man is unconscious and physically incapable of answering questions?" Harry asked.

"I did," Minerva confirmed with a curt nod. "He wants Severus at St. Mungo's, under guard, so that when he does wake, they will know immediately and can take him into custody."

"They can't have him," Harry stated.

"That was my position as well. I gave Kingsley access to the Headmaster's portrait, and Albus explained everything. Kingsley still wants Severus. He assured me that Severus would be given a fair hearing and that he would be treated fairly."

"But you know as well as I do that if they get their hands on him, he's not coming out of there again. He has many enemies, and they won't hesitate to do everything they can to put him in Azkaban for the rest of his life. In his condition, he'll be dead inside of a month! And that's if someone doesn't get to him while he's in the hospital!"

Minerva sighed. "I know, and I'm willing to go to Azkaban myself to protect him."

The thought of her in that place horrified Harry, and he made up his mind quickly. "That's not necessary," Harry said. "I'll go to him. I'll go talk to Kingsley. I'll tell him I've got Severus and that I'm not turning him over, and that if he wants to arrest someone, he should arrest me." Harry stood up. "I'll go now."

"Would you like me to go with you?" Hermione asked.

Harry smiled down at her. "No. Stay with Severus. I'll be back soon."

##########

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Minister," Harry said politely as he sat in the office of the new Acting Minister of Magic.

"Harry," Kingsley said with a big smile. "Did you really think I'd deny you an audience? You killed Voldemort. We owe you everything. And please, it's Kingsley."

Harry was happy to hear that he was owed. "I'm here to collect," he stated bluntly.

Kingsley raised an interested eyebrow. "Anything, Harry. As I said, we owe you everything."

"I want Snape."

"I believe you already have him." After speaking with Minerva, Shacklebolt had guessed where Severus Snape was holed up.

"Kingsley . . ." Harry began, his voice a low warning growl.

"Harry," Kingsley interrupted, sitting back in his chair and surveying the boy – no, man – sitting before him. "We only want to talk to him. There are questions about his activities during the last year while he was Headmaster. There are even more questions about some of the things he did in the years before Voldemort's disappearance."

"That was a long time ago. Does anyone intend to question him about the sacrifices he has made since he realized his mistake and went to Dumbledore? Would any of that be taken into account? I know you've spoken with Dumbledore's portrait. You know the whole story, Kingsley. How can you persecute him now?"

"I _have _spoken with Dumbledore," Kingsley confirmed. "He told me what Severus has been doing for him. I knew a great deal of it, of course, through our work in the Order. But we cannot just look past the crimes he committed, at Voldemort's bidding."

"And at Dumbledore's," Harry pointed out.

Kingsley nodded to indicate his acceptance of that truth.

"You said you owe me everything. I literally gave up my life to ensure that Voldemort would, once and for all, die. I don't want money in return. I don't want an Order of Merlin of any class. I don't want a figurehead job here at the Ministry or automatic entry into the auror program. All I want is Snape, cleared of all charges, free to go where he wants, when he wants, with no suspicion attached to his name. He's sacrificed enough. _That _is what I want. _That _is what you owe me. And him."

"Is he at Grimmauld Place, Harry?"

Harry nodded, then looked Kinsgley straight in the eye. "He is. And if you try to take him by force, I would expect resistance. Fair warning."

Kingsley smiled at Harry's bravado. "I would hope it wouldn't come to that."

Harry stood up. "I've said what I came here to say, and I'll not keep you any longer. I'm sure you're busy. You have my terms. I'm happy to discuss this again, but I'm not going to change my mind, and I'm not going to accept anything less than Snape's total pardon."

Kingsley stood as well and extended his hand to Harry. Harry took it and shook it firmly. "Thank you for coming, Harry. We'll give this some thought, and I'll be in touch."

##########

"Any change?" Harry asked Hermione as she exited Snape's room.

"He moaned," Hermione reported.

"Moaning – that's good, right?"

"Well, it's a sign of something good, I think," Hermione said. "He's been so still for so long. I have to think that any change that involves vocalization and movement is good."

"I'm going to have a shower, and then I'll make you some breakfast. Hungry?"

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek. "Always, for you."

Harry heaved a pretend sigh. "Women – sex is all you ever think about."

"You shouldn't be so sexy," Hermione defended herself.

Harry snorted at that. "Now I know you're balmy. Want to join me?"

"Will you sing for me? If I'm in there, I mean."

"No," Harry said, blushing furiously. "I can't sing while other people are watching!"

"Then I'll stay out here," Hermione said, giving him a quick kiss. "I like hearing you sing in the shower." And she did. Harry had a nice voice and really put his all into it. "Pick something nice for me."

Harry looked at her and smiled. "_Mm-mmm. I'm a little bit in love. Never felt this way before. Mm-mmm, just a little bit in love, or perhaps a little bit more_."

Hermione laughed, and Harry swept her up into his arms and danced her around the small hallway. She settled into him so perfectly, and Harry was reminded of that first dance they'd shared, when he'd dared to turn it into something other than a platonic dance between grief-stricken friends. He was so grateful that he'd taken that chance, and that she'd responded as she had. He didn't know what he would do without Hermione: she was his everything. He dropped his chin to her shoulder and continued to croon in her ear as he turned her. "_When she looks at me, everything's hazy and all out of focus. When she touches me, I'm in the spell of a strange hocus pocus. It's so – I don't know. I'm so – I don't know. I don't know, but I know if it's love, then it's lovely. Mm-mmm. It's so nice to be alive. When you meet someone who bewitches you. Will she be my all, or did I just fall a little bit, a little bit in love."_

When he finished, he kissed her ear. "Care to join me in the shower?" he asked, his voice husky with suggestion. "I'll sing more if you say yes."

Hermione pulled away and looked up at him. Moved by the words he'd sung to her, her eyes were shining with tears. "I think you'll be too busy to sing." Harry took her hand and started to make for the bathroom, but she didn't budge, forcing him to stop again. When he looked at her with questions in his eyes, she swallowed once, loudly. "I love you, Harry," she said.

Harry pulled her close again and muttered, "Love you, too," into her hair. They stood that way for many moments until Hermione finally pulled away again and said, "Let's get that shower."

##########

The _Daily Prophet_ was waiting on the table when they arrived in the kitchen, but they ignored it in favor of making breakfast. While Harry scooped scrambled eggs onto plates and carried them, along with a stack of toast and a plate of bacon, to the table, Hermione flipped the paper open.

"Oh no."

"What now?" Harry asked, dropping into his chair.

Hermione read a bit further before answering. "I can't believe he did this."

"Who?" Harry asked before shoveling a large bite of egg into his mouth.

"Kingsley. Minister Shacklebolt."

Harry began to get a bad feeling, and his chewing slowed down exponentially. "What has he done?"

Hermione lay the paper flat on the table with a noise of disgust. "He's leaked to the _Prophet_ that Snape is here."

"What?!" Harry asked, shocked and disbelieving that Kingsley Shacklebolt, Order member and someone Harry had considered a friend, would betray him like this.

"It's all here. How you brought Snape here to keep him from the Ministry. How you went to the Ministry yesterday demanding Snape's freedom. To their credit, they've also reported the actual truth for once, about Snape's role in the war. That's rather surprising."

Harry was stunned. "I can't believe he did this. I thought he was my friend. He _knows_ the truth. How could he put Snape in danger like this? We've got to talk to Minerva. He may not be safe here any longer. We may have to move him."

"Where?"

"That's why we need to talk to Minerva." Harry wasn't hungry any longer, and he dropped his fork onto his plate. "I'm gonna go see if I can talk to her right away."

"I'll clean up here," Hermione offered.

"Let Kreacher get it, if you would," Harry requested. "He was nearly in tears yesterday over me making breakfast. I know how you feel about all that, but he would _really _like it if you let him do _something _around here."

"All right," Hermione conceded. She'd come to the realization that she couldn't fight house elf nature. "I'll go check on Snape again. I'm really hoping that moaning was a sign that he's finally going to wake up."

Harry made his way to the sitting room and prepared to floo the Headmistress. He had just opened the floo when the Acting Minister of Magic's head appeared in his flame.

"Shacklebolt," Harry said, making the name sound like an accusation. He was damned if he'd extend the man the respect of the office at this point.

"Harry," Kingsley said. "May I come through? Please. I did _not _go to the _Prophet. _I would not do that to you, or to Severus. I'd like to explain in person. May I?"

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

Harry stepped back. "Come on through."

Meanwhile, across the hall, in the first bedroom on the first floor, Hermione waved her wand over Severus' prone form. His vitals were the same, unchanged from the moment he'd arrived here and they'd taken over his care. She duly noted them on the chart, then sat on the bed beside the unresponsive man and hesitantly picked up his hand. They'd tried speaking to Severus, hoping voices would bring him out of his coma-like state, but as far as she knew, no one had tried touching him.

"Severus." That felt and sounded strange, so Hermione started over. "Professor," she said, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb as she held it between her warm hands. "I know you're in there. You've been sleeping for a very long time. We'd really like it if you'd come back to us."

She was rewarded for her attempt by another soft moan. Snape's hand twitched in hers.

"Professor!" Hermione said excitedly. "Can you hear me?"

Severus' eyes blinked open, then closed again. Several seconds later, they opened again and stayed that way.

"Professor, it's Hermione Granger. Can you hear me?"

Snape opened his mouth, as though to speak, but no sound came out of his long-unused throat. He nodded his head once.

"Oh thank God!" Hermione breathed. "Professor, you're safe. Voldemort is dead."

Severus started visibly at the name, but his eyes searched hers, looking for verification that she was telling the truth. She squeezed his hand in reassurance. "It's true. He's really gone. Harry did it."

Severus closed his eyes again, in sheer relief. He became aware that Hermione Granger, former student, was holding his hand, and that even though he was lying in bed and had been for Merlin only knew how long, he was incredibly tired. But Voldemort was dead – the monster was gone. Severus was alive, and he was free. He'd honestly given himself about a five percent chance of surviving the final battle, when it eventually arrived, and to learn that he had beaten those odds was slightly overwhelming. He felt a tear squeeze out of one eye and knew he should feel embarrassed about that, but he was just too damned tired to care.

He opened his eyes again and stared up at the young woman holding his hand, wondering how he'd come to be here with this particular young person holding his hand, why he wasn't in Azkaban, how Potter had finally dispatched the Dark Lord, whether Potter had survived, how he'd survived the snake bite that he now remembered and which caused him to shudder uncontrollably.

"Are you cold?" Hermione asked immediately. She picked up her wand and cast a warming spell, which settled over Severus like a warmed blanket.

"Thank you," he tried to say, but his useless throat would not allow him to form the words and get them out.

"It's all right," Hermione assured him with a warm smile. "You probably have a lot of questions."

Snape nodded.

"I think that we should have someone take a look at you before we tax you with too much. You look like you need sleep more than . . ." Hermione stopped as voices across the hall began to get loud. "Excuse me a moment, Professor," she said, obviously worried. She got up and hurried from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

"Who else knew?" Harry demanded loudly. Shacklebolt had just finished telling Harry that he had _not_ gone to the Prophet, that he would never do such a thing to Harry or a fellow Order member, knowing how much danger that would put both of them in.

"I told no one," Kingsley assured him. "I did, however, prepare a memo detailing our conversation after you left."

"And who had access to that memo?" Harry asked, remembering the hundreds of blue memos that circulated about above everyone's head at the Ministry. How easy would it be for someone to snatch a memo coming from the Minister's office out of the air and read it?

"Only my secretary."

"And you trust her?"

"She's a leftover from the previous administration. I haven't been there long enough to form my own opinion of her trustworthiness."

"Yet you let her have access to something this sensitive?!" Harry snarled. "She's probably reporting to her former boss still. Hell, she may have even been a Death Eater!" Harry's voice was rising along with his temper. "Did you think of any of this? This is inexcusable carelessness that I would not have expected from you. You've put Severus in a great deal of danger. He's owed more than that."

"Let me take him in, Harry. We can keep him safe."

"Absolutely not! Do you think I'm that stupid?! I'm not the boy I was a year ago, Kingsley. I won't be manipulated into doing someone else's bidding."

"I can take him, Harry. I have that authority."

Harry drew his wand and pointed it directly at Kingsley's chest. "You'll have to go through me to get him."

Shacklebolt raised his hands in supplication. "Harry, put that away. There's no call for wands here. I came here alone, didn't I? We're just talking."

"No, _you're _talking. _I'm _telling you – you're not taking him. Get out of my house, Kingsley, and don't come back unless you're coming to tell me that Severus has been fully pardoned."

Kingsley sighed. "You're right, Harry. You're not the same boy I used to know. But that's not surprising, I guess, considering what you've been through."

Hermione entered the room and looked warily at Harry's wand, which was still pointed at the Minister.

"Minister," she said with a curt nod in his direction.

"Miss Granger," Shacklebolt said with a cool smile. "How delightful to see you."

"Can I offer you tea, sir?" Hermione asked.

"Kingsley was just leaving," Harry stated firmly.

Shacklebolt looked sadly at Harry. "I am sorry, Harry, that this happened. If there's anything I can do to help you, please let me know."

"You know what I want," Harry said coldly. "Good day."

Kingsley nodded at this obvious dismissal, smiled slightly at Hermione, and stepped back into the floo.

In the bedroom, Severus had managed to stay awake long enough to hear the conversation between the two men. One of his questions was answered at least – Potter was obviously alive. And defending him, quite vociferously, against Kingsley Shacklebolt, an impressive man in his own right but now also apparently the new Minister of Magic. That perhaps explained why he wasn't in Azkaban, thought he wasn't sure he understood completely why Potter hadn't simply killed Snape himself. When the noises in the other room quieted, he finally succumbed to sleep.

Harry and Hermione had no chance to talk about the Minister's visit, and Hermione had no time to tell Harry that Snape had woken up, before Minerva's head popped up in the fire. "I'm coming through," she informed them briskly.

"Good," Harry said. "I was just coming to see you."

To be continued . . .

**Note:** As Harry indicated, the song he sings first is _Seventy-Six Trombones_, from the musical "The Music Man". The other is _Little Bit in Love_, from "Wonderful Town".


	2. Chapter 2

**THREE FOR ALL**

**by Warviben**

**Summary: **Harry and Hermione grow closer after Ron leaves them during the hunt for horcruxes. Their lives become even more interesting when Severus Snape joins them after the final battle.

**Warning:** This fic is for grown-ups. It contains detailed descriptions of sexual activities between two characters (a male and a female) and three characters (a female and two males). If you are not old enough, or if this type of thing is not for you, please stop reading now.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or the basic premise for their existence. I guess I do own some of the characters that come later – you'll know who they are.

_##########_

_From Chapter 1:_

_Harry and Hermione had no chance to talk about the Minister's visit, and Hermione had no time to tell Harry that Snape had woken up, before Minerva's head popped up in the fire. "I'm coming through," she informed them briskly._

"_Good," Harry said. "I was just coming to see you."_

##########

Harry's day went from bad, with the news of the Ministry's careless betrayal, to good, with the news of Snape's awakening, to bad again in the amount of time it took for an owl to appear and deliver a letter. Harry unrolled the parchment after feeding the bird and sending it on its way. "It's from Andromeda," he told Hermione. They were expecting a visit from Harry's godson tomorrow, a visit which Harry had been eagerly anticipating.

His face fell as he read the letter, and he sat heavily on the sofa.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione sat beside him.

Without a word, Harry handed her the parchment, then sat back and covered his face with his hands. Hermione read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I write in reference to your visit with Teddy. I have, of course, read the news that you are sheltering Severus Snape. This concerns me in many ways, but mostly because I heard many things about this man from Nymphadora. She told me many times she did not trust him, that she was almost convinced he was working for Voldemort, despite Dumbledore's trust in him. While he was Headmaster at Hogwarts, I heard many disturbing stories of atrocities allowed to happen under his watch, to children._

_I have been given the task of raising my grandchild, and I take that responsibility seriously. I cannot in good conscience allow him in the presence of someone I suspect of war crimes, someone who was in charge of Hogwarts when my daughter and her husband were killed there. It is with regret that I must cancel our visit for this week._

_Nymphadora always spoke very highly of you, and I have never had any reason to think you anything but an upstanding young man. I must now suspect your judgment in giving shelter to this man who has committed such grievance crimes against our world._

_Should you reconsider your decision to advocate on behalf of this man, I would be pleased to revisit your involvement in Teddy's life. Until then, I stand by my decision to keep him away from undesirable elements._

_Sincerely yours, _

_Andromeda Tonks_

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said with sympathy.

"I'm an 'undesirable element'," Harry said incredulously. He looked up at her with wet, earnest eyes. "What can I do, Hermione? Remus wanted me to – can I force her to let me see him?"

"Godparents don't have any legal rights, Harry. She's his guardian. She has the right to make decisions regarding his care."

Harry sat on the sofa, defeat in his posture and his eyes. "It was supposed to get easier, you know? When it was over? When does everything stop being such a struggle? When does anything get easy?" Harry was so tired of fighting, everyone and everything.

"Do you want to reconsider?" Hermione asked. "About Snape?"

"No," Harry said immediately. "I'm not wrong about this thing with Snape. He needs someone to speak up for him. What he did, all those years – his life was in danger every day, Hermione, for years and years. I can't even imagine the stress he lived with. I don't know how he did it. No, standing up for Severus Snape is the most right thing I've ever done. I just didn't know the price would be so high."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry got up and went to the window, staring out at nothing. An hour later, he was still there.

##########

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione said as she attempted to maneuver Snape back onto his clean sheets, a little more roughly than she'd intended. "Harry's been doing the cleaning spells and changing your linens. I'm not in practice."

"And where is Mr. Potter?" Snape asked as he settled back against his pillows with relief. "I've not see him since yesterday."

"He's . . . a little out of sorts today," Hermione said, steadfastly avoiding Snape's eyes.

"Did I hear correctly, Miss Granger?"

"It's Hermione," she corrected. "And what do you think you heard?"

"I thought I heard Kingsley Shacklebolt here yesterday."

"You did," Hermione confirmed.

"And I thought I heard you refer to him as the Minister."

"Mm hmm."

"And I thought I heard Harry pull his wand on the Minister of Magic when he threatened to take me away."

Hermione sighed. "You did. You know Harry – act first, think of the consequences later."

Snape was quiet for a moment, staring at his hands as they smoothed the sheet on his chest. "I have to confess to a significant amount of surprise at being here and not in Azkaban."

"There are those who want you there," Hermione told him.

"And all that stands between me and the wizard prison is Harry Potter?"

"And me. And Minerva. We all agree that you don't belong in prison. We were hiding you here, until that cat got let out of the bag. Now everyone knows."

"But he pulled his wand on the _Minister of Magic_?"

Hermione smiled fondly. "That's our Harry."

"And 'our Harry' is currently under the weather?"

"Something like that."

"Is it serious?" Severus replied. "Is there anything I can do? A potion perhaps?"

Hermione snorted. "Like you're in any shape to brew! No, it's not anything a potion can help."

"It is not physical, then?"

"No, it's not physical. He's feeling a little – everything's just kind of caught up to him, I think."

"Does he regret bringing me here?" Snape guessed.

"Not at all. It's everyone's reaction to it that has him down."

"His friends have been less than supportive?"

"It's not that. We haven't heard from any of the Weasleys. It's Andromeda Tonks."

"Nymphadora's mother?" Snape asked, confused.

"Yes, she's the baby's guardian."

"Baby?" Snape was so out of touch.

"Tonks and Remus had a child, a son. When they . . . died, she became the baby's guardian. Remus asked Harry to be the godfather. Andromeda was supposed to bring Teddy by today, but she sent an owl yesterday canceling the visit." Hermione stopped here, unwilling to explain just why.

But Snape thought he knew. "Because of me."

Hermione sighed. "Harry took it hard. She's refusing to let him be a part of Teddy's life. He was _so_ looking forward to seeing him."

Snape was silent for a moment. "I don't understand why you are doing this. You're alienating the wizarding world, for someone who likely doesn't deserve it."

"Harry and I both know the truth, Professor. He spoke with Dumbledore, just prior to going to the Shrieking Shack. We know what you've sacrificed over the past few years. And we won't rest until everyone else knows, too."

Overcome by feelings he couldn't name or understand, Snape lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes. "I feel quite fatigued. I would like to sleep now."

"Of course, Professor. Get some rest. I'll bring you a bit to eat later." She fussed over his blankets for a moment before leaving him blissfully alone.

##########

Hermione was becoming quite concerned about Harry. He had been basically despondent for two days – he wasn't eating, he wasn't communicating other than in one-syllable words and grunts, he wasn't bathing. She'd seen him in a funk before, but he'd never gone this far or this deep, and he'd always brought himself out of them. Hermione had let him be up until now, but he didn't seem to be getting any better.

She was tired herself. With Harry in the condition he was, she was solely responsible for caring for Snape. Now that he was conscious, he'd started eating. She was administering his potions, making his meals, taking care of his needs. After getting him settled into bed for the evening and seeing him off to sleep, Hermione went in search of her lover.

She found him in their bedroom, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his shins. He was staring at the opposite wall, and he looked so sad that Hermione thought her heart might break just from looking at him. The dark smudges under his eyes bespoke a lack of sleep, and Hermione thought maybe that was the place to start getting her Harry back.

She went into the adjoining bathroom and began to run water into the tub. While she waited for the tub to fill, Hermione passed back through the bedroom, by an oblivious Harry, and made her way down to the kitchen, where she fixed him a tray of biscuits and tea. When she returned to the bedroom, Harry hadn't moved, and the tub was filled. Hermione checked the temperature, heated it a few degrees, added bath oil smelling of lavender and vanilla, then went back into the bedroom and knelt on the floor beside Harry.

"Harry?" she said softly. "I love you."

A very small smile came to Harry's lips and went quickly away again. Hermione reached out and took his hand, prying his arm away from its hold on his legs. "Come with me," she requested. She stood up, pulling on Harry's hand as she did. She thought at first that he was going to resist, but he finally allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

Hermione led him into the bathroom. Harry stood docilely on the rug, so Hermione began to undress him. When he was naked, she led him into the tub and helped him to settle into the water. She let him soak for a few minutes, then joined him in the bathroom, soaped up a flannel and began to wash him. After washing his hair, she pulled him to a standing position and helped him out of the tub. Still not assisting her at all, Harry stood silently while Hermione dried him, then led him to the bed.

She settled him into the bed and placed the tray beside him. She picked up the cup of tea and pressed it to his lips. When he pressed his lips closed, Hermione said sternly, "Harry," and he opened up enough for her to pour a small amount of tea into his mouth. She followed that up with a biscuit which she insisted he chew up and swallow. When he'd eaten three biscuits and emptied the cup of tea, Hermione moved the tray to the floor and settled Harry flat in the bed.

Hermione undressed and climbed into the bed, snuggling up to Harry. It was not her intention to have sex with Harry, but she discovered, quite by accident, that he had an erection, which he seemed quite interested in using. She rolled atop him, kissed him gently on the forehead, then raised up enough so that she could grasp his cock, rub its head between her folds to produce lubrication, then lowered herself down onto him.

God in Heaven, she'd missed this. She lay herself down on Harry, breasts to chest, and rocked herself up and down on his erection. For a moment, Harry only lay there, but finally his arms went around Hermione's waist, and he began to thrust up into her. Hermione pushed herself up so she could look down at Harry. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on moving within her. His jaw tightened as the pace of his thrusting increased, and Hermione could tell he was close. She continued to stare down into his face until he grunted, his eyes screwed tightly shut, and ejaculated up into her. She rode out his orgasm, then lay down on Harry's chest again. When he stilled, she rolled to her side, bringing Harry with her, his cock still tucked securely inside her. It had been quick, and she hadn't come, but she thought they were both better for what they'd just done.

When Hermione looked up at Harry, he was looking back at her, and his green eyes were clearer than she'd seen them in two days. "Welcome back," she whispered.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her lips tenderly.

Harry's softening penis slid out of her, and Hermione felt the wash of his fluid trickling down her thigh. She should cast a cleaning spell – it was cold and icky feeling, but it was oh-so-perfect, so she lay her head on Harry's shoulder, snuggled into the security of his embrace, and let herself fall to sleep quickly.

When they woke in the morning, her Harry was back, apologetic and very hungry.

##########

Snape was finally able to get out of bed and spend short periods of time sitting, in the library or at the table. He tired quickly, but it was such a relief to be up and doing something that he didn't complain when one of his keepers told him it was time to nap.

He'd just left his room one morning when he heard an unusual sound coming from the floor above, and he slowly climbed the stairs to investigate. Three steps from the top, he stopped and sat on the step.

Harry was in the shower. Over the sound of the running water, he could hear the boy singing.

"_Blast you high, hear me call, must I fight City Hall. Here and now, damn it all, come back to me. What on Earth must I do? Scream and yell, 'til I'm blue? Curse your soul, when will you come back to me? Have you gone to the moon or the corner saloon? At your rack, at your room, Mademoiselle, where in Hell can you be?_"

Bemused, Severus sat for many minutes listening and was a little embarrassed to be caught there by Hermione.

"Everything all right?" she asked, concerned that he'd tried to climb the stairs and become exhausted before reaching the top.

"Yes, fine. I was just . . . listening to Potter."

In the bathroom, the sound of Harry's singing ended, followed by the running water stopping.

Hermione smiled at him and sat down beside him. "Harry," she said fondly. "Pretty good, isn't he? His aunt used to sing those songs."

Before Snape could respond, Harry opened the door and exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his hair still dripping. He stopped when he caught sight of the two of them sitting side by side on the step and stared at them, wondering what they were doing there.

"Er, hello?" he said.

Hermione smiled at him in response.

"I should like to introduce you to some wizards, Mr. Potter," Severus said. "They could teach you a drying charm."

"I don't like drying charms. They make my hair stand up."

Severus' eyes went to the top of Harry's head, and he didn't have to voice what he was thinking. Harry huffed and turned to go, grabbing at his towel when it loosened and threatened to fall down his hips. Severus laughed for the first time since waking up here.

##########

Snape wouldn't have thought it possible, but Granger and Potter were very adequate caretakers. They were respectful of his privacy and what dignity was left to an invalid. They were surprisingly pleasant conversationalists, and they spent many hours talking through their experiences over the last year, Snape filling them in on what had happened at Hogwarts and Harry and Hermione regaling him with tales of their adventures on the run. Snape had expected to find himself in Azkaban, and even Potter's presence was preferable to that.

It didn't take long for Snape to realize that something in the relationship between the two young people had changed. Snape was an observant person, and they were making no effort to hide it, so he noticed that they touched each other in ways that went beyond mere friendship. One day, when Hermione was tucking him back into his bed for his afternoon nap, he asked about it.

"I have noticed that you and Potter are . . . close," he said. "This is a new development?"

Hermione smiled at him. "We've been together for a few months."

"You were friends at Hogwarts, yes?"

"Yes, we were just friends while we were at school," Hermione confirmed. "Harry was seeing Ginny at the end of our sixth year."

"And you were with Mr. Weasley, I believe."

"Yes, that's true," Hermione admitted.

"Had your relationship with Mr. Weasley ended, then? When you took up with Potter?" Snape asked.

Hermione hesitated with her answer, and Snape felt as though he should offer an apology. "I am sorry, Miss Granger. I am prying into things that do not concern me. Please forgive me."

"No, it's all right. We're all living here together. Our relationships sort of . . . overlapped, I guess I'd say."

Snape took this to mean that she was still seeing Weasley when she'd begun her relationship with Potter. He hadn't thought either one of them capable of such deception and betrayal. Funny what living in isolation did to a person.

"I have been wondering why Mr. Weasley does not visit. The three of you were nearly inseparable while at school. I assume then that the dissolution of your romantic relationship also ended your friendship with him?"

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the coverlet. "It was a little more complicated than that, but yes, that's the gist of it."

"And Miss Weasley?"

"Harry broke things off with her before we went horcrux hunting. I think he intended to return to her when it was over, but then we – " Hermione trailed off. It was hard not to feel a small measure of guilt over Ginny – the look in her eyes when they had returned to Hogwarts and Ginny had realized that Harry and Hermione were more than friends.

"I am sorry if I have upset you with my questions."

Hermione smiled thinly and stood up. "You haven't upset me. It's the past. I have Harry now, and we're happy together."

Snape settled back into his pillow. "I am . . . glad. You deserve happiness."

Hermione gifted him with a real smile this time. "Thank you. You get some rest now."

##########

Snape was awoken some time later by the sound of raised voices. As quickly as he could, he got out of bed and took up his wand. He crept out of his room and padded silently in sock feet toward the source of the noise, which seemed to be the sitting room.

"We've had this discussion before!" Harry said. He wasn't shouting, exactly, but he was obviously angry and trying to keep control of his temper.

"Yes, Harry. I told you I would think the matter over." Kingsley.

"You're not taking him," Harry said firmly.

"He's got to be recovering, Harry," Shacklebolt said reasonably. "He's been here for weeks."

"That's irrelevant," Harry countered. "You're not taking him, whether he's healthy or not. If I let him go now, no one will ever see him again. You'll take him in there, and he'll get lost in the bowels of the Ministry. He's a hero, Kingsley. I won't have him treated like a common criminal."

Harry's words warmed Severus as he stood listening to the boy's impassioned defense.

"We seem to have reached a stalemate," Kingsley noted. "Although I think there may be one more move on the board."

Severus couldn't see Harry, but he could picture in his mind the boy staring suspiciously at the much taller man. "Chess was Ron's specialty. Why don't you spell it out for me?"

"You told me you refused to participate in any of the award ceremonies or the celebrations of the victory."

"Yes, I did."

"And I told you that the wizarding world needs you. They need to see their savior, they want to thank you. You deserve these things, Harry. I understand that you want your privacy and that you never wanted the adulation, but in this time of rebuilding, the people need a focal point, someone they can look to as they plan their future."

"And you want _me _to be that 'focal point'?" Harry asked, his voice hard and angry.

"Who better?"

"You want this in exchange for Severus Snape?" Harry asked, voice flat now.

Severus felt more than a little strange, standing here listening to himself be bargained over. How far was Potter willing to go to keep him from the Ministry's clutches? Should he step out now and give himself up? Grimmauld Place, as depressing as it could be, was worlds better than an Azkaban holding cell, so Severus stayed where he was.

Potter was silent for a very long time, apparently considering the Minister's offer. When he finally spoke, his voice now contained a noticeable note of disgust. "You've become a politician, Kingsley."

"I have a job to do, Harry. I'm trying to take it seriously."

"You disgust me," Harry spat.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kingsley said, and he sounded as though he genuinely was. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal. But I will not be your pet. I will not be paraded out at every stupid function you people think up. You'll keep it to the more important functions."

"I can do that," Kingsley agreed. "But definitely the awards ceremony to start. Now that I have your agreement, we'll get that scheduled. I'll let you know the date."

"And you'll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone leaves Snape alone," Harry stated. "A pardon or whatever."

"Yes."

"Get out of my house, Kingsley. And don't come back."

"Of course," a subdued Minister of Magic said, and Severus heard the sound of the floo flaring to life.

"Fuck!" Harry spit. "I hate this!"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Severus heard Hermione say. "I know he was your friend."

Severus could hear Harry's sigh from where he stood in the hall. "Snape, you might as well come in. I know you're out there."

Flushing with embarrassment at being caught, Severus slipped into the room. "Thank you, Potter," he said. "I know that wasn't easy for you."

"I'm only doing what Professor Dumbledore would have wanted me to do, sir. You don't need to thank me." Obviously still upset by the perceived betrayal of someone he thought was a friend, Harry brushed by Severus on his way out of the room.

##########

"So she said that she talked with him, and he agreed to do it. She's probably there now," Hermione was saying to Harry when Severus walked into the kitchen. "Hello, Professor. Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you. I'll get it," he told, waving her back down when she started to rise from her chair. She dropped back into her seat and continued speaking. "It has to help, don't you think?"

"It can't hurt," Harry said, near despondent.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, concerned.

Snape settled at the table with his fresh cup of tea and watched them both.

"Great," Harry muttered. "Just great."

Snape sipped his tea, studying Harry over the top of his cup. Yesterday's meeting with Shacklebolt had upset the boy, and he appeared not to be over it yet. "Anything I should worry about?" he asked nonchalantly.

"No," Harry said quickly.

"Professor Dumbledore has agreed to give an interview to the Quibbler," Hermione explained. "I spoke with Luna yesterday after the Minister left, and she suggested it. She went to Hogwarts yesterday and asked him if he'd be willing, and he said yes. She's there now talking to him."

"And what, might I ask, are they discussing?" Snape asked.

"You," Hermione told him. "We thought that getting the truth out about you could only help."

"The truth?" Snape spit. "You think anyone really knows the truth? Or wants to hear it?"

"Everyone _needs _to hear the truth," Hermione countered. "From a source that's above reproach."

"And did no one think to ask me if I _wanted_ this?"

"No," Harry said, his anger rising again. "No one asked you, you great wanker. Just like no one asked me when I was a year old if I wanted to be responsible for offing a murderer and no one asked me if I wanted to grow up in a cupboard and no one asked me if I wanted to live the rest of my life being a toady for the Ministry!" Harry slammed his cup down onto its saucer and stood up. He _was_ still upset about his dispute with Kingsley yesterday and the deal he'd had to make to keep Snape away from the Ministry. He wasn't so much upset about the deal as he was about the fact that he'd had to make it. Dumbledore had told Shacklebolt the truth. As a member of the Order, that should have been good enough for the Minister to leave Snape alone. But he'd used Harry's desire to protect Snape to get something from Harry that he wouldn't have gotten any other way. Harry was tired of politics, and he was tired of being used. And Snape had the nerve to complain. Before he said anything he'd likely regret, Harry stalked out of the room.

##########

The next issue of _The Quibbler_ was on news stands three days later. A picture of the former Headmaster of Hogwarts adorned the front cover, the familiar twinkling blue eyes smiling out from his portrait frame. The headline read: "Dumbledore Clears Snape." The article was surprisingly coherent (considering that Luna Lovegood had written it) and contained a transcript of Luna's interview, almost verbatim, with the Headmaster. Dumbledore clearly and unequivocally defended Snape, explained the history of Snape's defection from the Death Eaters and his subsequent role as a spy for the Light, and stated that had it not been for Snape, Harry would never have been in a position to finally end the reign of the Dark Lord's terror. He ended by saying that while Harry had cast the final spell, Snape had laid the ground work to make it possible.

Luna ended the article by describing Voldemort's unsuccessful attempt to kill Snape and informed the world at large that Snape was recovering from his wounds at an undisclosed location. Of course, anyone who read the _Prophet_ knew exactly where that "undisclosed" location was.

##########

"Did you hear something?" Hermione asked Harry, her head popping up off the pillow.

But Harry had already risen, his wand in hand, naked as a jaybird, but focused on the sound of the alarm notifying him that someone was attempting to breach the wards surrounding Grimmauld Place. A quick glance at the bedside clock showed him that it was nearly two in the morning. Anyone with legitimate business here would not have tripped the wards – whoever it was likely was here for Snape.

"You need to get to Snape," Harry said, keeping his voice low. "Don't hesitate to use whatever you need."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked as she slipped into her robe.

"I want to see how many there are."

"How did they get in?"

"I don't know, and we don't have time to figure it out now. Go now, Hermione. I'll join you there as soon as I can."

Leading the way, Harry left their bedroom, escorting Hermione to Snape's bedroom door, then leaving her while he went to investigate further. "Be careful, Harry," she pleaded with him before slipping into Snape's room.

Where she encountered the end of Snape's wand. He lay in bed still, but was hardly defenseless. "It's me," she whispered.

"What is going on?" he asked.

"Someone's breaking in," Hermione informed him, crossing to his bed and grabbing up his robe. "Here, put this on. Harry's gone down to see if he can tell how many there are."

"You let him go alone?" Snape asked as he stood and slipped his arms into the robe.

"I needed to come here. Harry will be here once he scopes out what's going on."

"We should join him," Snape urged. "He may need help."

"You're still too weak," Hermione pointed out. "Harry will be fine. It'll take them some time to get through, if they can manage it. He'll have time to investigate and get back up here."

Proving her words, Harry slipped into the room. "Potter! What's going on?"

"There are ten of them," Harry reported. "We can't fight them. Not all of them. We've got to go." He would be willing to fight it out if they were all healthy, but he couldn't bank on Snape being able to fully help in his weakened condition.

"Go where?" Snape asked.

Harry ignored him. "We've probably got two minutes. Gather up what you can't leave behind. We may not be back."

"Potter," Snape said, stopping Harry as he turned toward the door.

"What?"

Snape's eyes traveled down Harry's naked form then back up again. "You may want to put some clothes on."

Harry smiled impishly. "I was hoping to shock them into submission."

"Careful – you may catch a hex in an area that could change your life."

Harry chuckled. "Good point. Hermione, you stay here. I'll grab your things and come right back."

Harry slipped out of the room, and Snape began to throw his clothes haphazardly into a rucksack. Before he'd finished, Harry returned, fully clothed. "That was quick," Snape noted.

Harry shrugged. "We got used to living on the run. We never really unpacked." He lifted his head, listening. "They're in. Hermione, take him and go," he ordered, handing her the bag containing their things.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to get to Kreacher, if I can."

"Potter, he's a house elf. He'll be fine," Snape argued. "We have to go!"

"I can't just leave him. I'll join you as soon as I can. Go, Hermione!"

Hermione and Harry shared a look, then Hermione nodded, took Snape's arm, and the two of them disappeared.

Harry threw his invisibility cloak over his head, then slipped out of the bedroom and made for the stairs. He heard people moving around in the sitting room, and he made his way silently down the stairs to the kitchen. "Kreacher!" he whispered loudly, just outside the elf's cupboard door.

The door opened, and Kreacher's head poked out. "Master is . . ."

"Shhhhh!" Harry cautioned. "There are intruders in the house. Many of them. We're taking Snape to a safe location. I would like to take you there, too."

"But Master's house . . . I cannot leave the House of Black unprotected," the elf protested.

"Kreacher, there are too many of them. The house isn't worth it. They may hurt you if they find you. I want you to come with me." He knew he could order the elf to go, and that Kreacher would have to obey, but he wanted Kreacher to choose to come. "Please, Kreacher."

"Kreacher does not want to leave his things, Master."

"Then get them. But please hurry."

Kreacher retreated into the cupboard. Harry strained his ears listening for any sound of the intruders coming down here, his eyes flicking back and forth between Kreacher's cupboard and the door at the bottom of the stairs. Finally, Kreacher opened the door, carrying a pillowcase weighed down with his most treasured possessions, and stepped out into the kitchen. He bowed low to Harry. "Kreacher is ready, Master."'

Not a moment too soon – Harry heard feet pounding down the stairs and someone shouted, "I hear voices in the kitchen."

Harry took Kreacher by the arm and apparated them both away as someone burst through the door, a curse on his lips and his wand.

##########

"Where are we?" Snape asked immediately after they arrived.

"Somewhere in Scotland," Hermione informed him, leading Snape to a love seat in a dusty sitting room and practically forcing him to sit. "Minerva owns this place. It's been in her family for decades. No one knows she owns it. After word got out that you were at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Minerva set up a plan that we would bring you here should there be a need. She's been alerted by now that we're here, and she'll send the Order to Grimmauld Place."

Snape was somewhat impressed that the two youngsters had thought to have a plan in place in case of trouble. But where was Potter?

They waited silently, both of them worried but neither willing to voice that worry, until Harry popped into the room holding the arm of Kreacher.

"Harry!" Hermione said, and she threw herself into his arms. "Thank God!"

"I'm fine, Hermione," he assured her, kissing her forehead. "Kreacher, would you mind fixing us some tea?"

Kreacher bowed low again. "Yes, Master."

Harry sighed. "Kreacher, I've asked you not to call me that. I'm Harry."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher agreed, then popped out of the room.

"All right, Professor?" Harry asked Snape. The man looked pale and worn. "Would you like me to find you a bed?"

"No," Snape said, though he wasn't sure that wasn't just what he needed. "I am fine." He had no intention of going to bed until he knew exactly what was going on.

"I suspect a spot of tea will help us all," Harry said, and he closed his eyes as a sudden weakness swept through his body.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you – Harry, you're bleeding!"

Harry looked down – his right sleeve was soaking through with blood. He would have fallen to his knees if Hermione hadn't put an arm around his waist and held him up.

"Sit down, Potter," Snape said, rising up from the sofa.

Hermione led him to the sofa and helped Harry to sit. Harry leaned back while Hermione peeled up the blood-soaked sleeve. A deep gash ran from Harry's elbow to his wrist, and he hissed when the sleeve pulled out of the wound.

"How did this happen?" Hermione asked.

"Just as I was taking Kreacher away, someone burst into the kitchen. He threw a hex at me. I thought it had missed. Apparently I was wrong."

"Do you know what hex was used?" Snape asked, examining the wound as Hermione held his arm gently.

"No. I was more worried about getting out of there."

"General healing spell, you think?" Hermione asked, looking up at Snape.

"Generally the safest bet," Snape agreed.

"Would you –" Hermione asked, indicating Harry's arm.

Snape took hold of the boy's arm and held it firmly while Hermione cast the spells to clean Harry's arm, disinfect the wound, and seal the edges together. While Harry sat with his eyes closed, Snape and Hermione stood watching the wound, making sure it stayed closed and that the bleeding had stopped. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared that she'd healed Harry's wound.

"Master," Kreacher said, popping back into the room, startling the three of them. "There is no tea. Kreacher will punish himself." Kreacher began banging his head against the door frame.

Harry jumped up, wincing when the sudden movement jarred his still-painful arm. "No, Kreacher! Stop! It's all right. We don't need tea that badly."

"Kreacher will return to the House of Black. There is tea there."

"No!" Harry said quickly. "I forbid you to go back there. It's not safe. What _do_ we have?"

"Nothing, Master," Kreacher reported. "There is no food here."

Harry sighed. Some plan. "We can deal with that in the morning – later today. Minerva should be here at some point. Let's check out the bedrooms and try to get some more sleep."

##########

But Minerva did not show up the following morning. By noon, Harry's arm ached and his belly was empty, but he refused to let Kreacher return to Grimmauld Place until they knew what was going on. He'd gone outside, trying to determine if they were close to civilization and any type of market, but they appeared to be in the middle of a moor that stretched forever, unbroken, in all directions.

By mid-afternoon, they were going in circles with their speculation over who might have broken into Grimmauld Place and how they'd come to learn the location of the fidelius-protected property. Harry was convinced that someone had betrayed them purposely, but Snape was of the opinion that it was only a matter of time before the secret was divulged to the wrong person, most likely unwittingly. After Dumbledore's death, everyone who knew the location of the safe house became its protector. With that many secret keepers, the power of the fidelius was severely diluted and weakened, and all it would take is someone eavesdropping on an unprotected conversation. Harry hoped Snape was right – he hated to think that anyone he knew (even Ron) would deliberately have betrayed them to former Death Eaters.

Their empty bellies were starting to drive them all spare. They sat in the small sitting room, trying to distract themselves from worrying thoughts.

"There's a swimming pool here," Harry told Hermione. "Did you notice?"

"I did," Hermione confirmed, looking up from the book she'd found in the room.

"If we're here for any length of time, maybe you could teach me to swim."

"You cannot swim?" Snape asked, surprised. "But the second task, of the Tri Wizard Tournament . . ."

"That was the gillyweed," Harry explained. "I was terrified I was going to drown. Will you teach me, Hermione?"

"Of course I will, love."

They were silent for a while before Harry couldn't stand it any more. "Man, I'm hungry! What I wouldn't give to be at Hogwarts right now."

"You did not get used to being hungry while you were on the run?" Snape asked.

"You never really get used to that feeling," Harry said. "You learn to live with it, but it's always there, just in the back of your mind. The only way to get away from it is to sleep."

They sat and thought about that for a moment. Snape's life had never been easy, but he'd never been hungry for extended periods of time. Potter sounded as though he had more than a passing familiarity with hunger. "Yorkshire pudding," Snape said at last.

At Harry's questioning look, Snape explained, "That was my favorite dish at the Hogwarts table. With a roast of beef cooked medium rare. And those carrots they made with the glaze, and boiled potatoes." Snape almost licked his lips at the memory. "With treacle tart for afters."

"Mmmm. Treacle tart – that was always my favorite, too. Why are we talking about food? I'm so hungry!" Harry moaned.

Hermione looked up from the book. "I read somewhere once that people in the concentration camps would talk about food and recipes while they were basically starving to death."

Both men looked at her as though she'd grown a second nose. "What? Sorry. I didn't make it up. I actually did read that."

"Do you smell that?" Harry asked suddenly, sitting up straighter.

Hermione and Snape both began sniffing the air. "Yes," Snape confirmed. "Smells like . . ." He sniffed again, "lamb."

Harry jumped up and went into the kitchen, followed by the others. As soon as the door opened, they were assaulted by the rich smells of food, glorious food.

"Kreacher!" Harry spoke to the elf around the drool that suddenly filled his mouth. Kreacher stood on a stool, stirring a pot on the cooker. "I thought I told you not to go back to Grimmauld Place!"

Kreacher wobbled on his stool, nearly falling off, but he steadied himself with the hand stirring the contents of the wonderful-smelling pot. "Kreacher did not return to the House of Black, Master."

"Where did the food come from?"

"Kreacher went to Hogwarts. Kreacher was seeing how the Master and his impure guests were hungry, and Kreacher must get food."

"Kreacher – " Harry said in warning to the elf's prejudiced words.

"Did you speak to any of the other elves while you were there?" Snape demanded, not caring if a lowly house elf thought him unworthy to step foot in the vaunted House of Black.

At his most obsequious when speaking with those whom he felt least deserved it (a form of naive sarcasm which Snape appreciated), Kreacher bowed as low as could given he was currently on a stool. "No, Master Snape, Kreacher only took food and spoke to no one."

"Did you hear anything while you were there? Any gossip that might bear on our situation?" Hermione asked, her tone gentle as it always was when she spoke with the house elf.

"No, Miss," Kreacher said almost lovingly, his attitude toward Hermione's mudblood status softened completely over time by her gentle and generous treatment of him. "Kreacher heard nothing."

"If Minerva isn't here by tomorrow morning," Harry said, "I'm going to Hogwarts myself to find out what's going on. But in the meantime, Kreacher – thank you for taking care of us. I think I speak for all of us when I say that whenever it's ready, we'd like to eat, regardless of whether or not it's actually mealtime."

"Kreacher lives to serve, Master," he said with a half-bow, then turned back to the stove.

##########

Minerva finally arrived the following morning, just after Kreacher served the eggs and ham he'd pilfered from Hogwarts. "Minerva," Snape said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, thank you." She sat at the table and nodded in acceptance of Hermione's offer of tea. "I apologize for taking so long to come to you. I've been trying to find answers to the questions I'd knew you'd have. First, we have no idea how they got in. It is obvious the fidelius has been compromised, but we have no idea why or by whom. I have personally questioned most of the surviving members of the Order, and they all assure me that they have not been indiscrete. I tend to believe them, but obviously someone has said something they shouldn't in the presence of someone who used this information to break into Grimmauld Place.

"Now, as to the house," Minerva continued after a sip of tea. "They were gone before any of us could get there. They did a sizeable amount of damage to the house, apparently in anger at having missed you. They set several small fires, which were extinguished before they could really take hold. The house is still structurally sound, but it will need a great deal of cosmetic work before you can return there. I am sorry, Harry."

"Huh? Oh, it's all right. Not like I was attached to the place, really."

"I would like to offer you the use of this house, for as long as you need it," Minerva said.

"Thank you," Hermione said when no one else spoke. "That's very generous of you."

"You've all been through a lot in the last few months. You deserve some peace. No one knows I own this place. The four of us are the only ones who know you are here, and we will keep it that way."

"Is there some type of market nearby?" Harry asked. "If we're to stay, we'll need access to food."

"I will provide you with a charmed ice box," Minerva told him.

Hermione and Snape both nodded in acceptance of this offer. Harry looked at both of them, then at Minerva. "All right. I admit it. I'm an idiot. What's a charmed ice box?"

Snape snorted his agreement with Harry's self-analysis. "It's an ice box, charmed as sort of a two-way transport device. It will have a twin, at Hogwarts. Elves there will put food into the box at their end, it will appear on our end."

"Cool," Harry said, impressed. "So a vanishing cabinet, of sorts."

"Exactly like a vanishing cabinet," Minerva confirmed. "If there's something specific you want, just write it on a piece of parchment and put it in the box. The elves will provide whatever you need – parchment, quills, books, anything within reason, as well as food. They will also deliver any mail addressed to the three of you. So please, make yourselves at home here as long as you like. I will provide you with any news I learn." She stood up. "And now, I have to go. Take care of each other."

After she'd left, Hermione looked at Harry, worried that recent events might drive him into depression. "Are you okay, Harry?"

"Me? I'm fine. Maybe we could start those swimming lessons this afternoon."

##########

Harry took to swimming like – well, like a fish to water. Within the space of one afternoon, Hermione taught him how to float, how to do a backstroke, and how to do a simple forward crawl. From that time on, Harry spent as much time in the water as he could. As a child, he'd always wanted to swim. Dudley had had lessons, and not only was Harry not allowed to participate as well, Aunt Petunia had dragged him to his cousin's lessons so that Harry had to watch as the large, ungainly boy flailed about in the water. To explain his non-participation, Petunia told everyone that Harry was terrified of the water.

Though he felt a little childish and silly, Harry made up games to play by himself in the pool. Hermione liked to swim, but she preferred to lay on the pool deck in her string bikini tanning herself a beautiful bronze. Sometimes she would play games with him – she would throw diving rings in the pool while Harry covered his eyes. He then had to find all of the rings in a predetermined length of time. When she got tired of the games, Harry would pretend he was an undersea adventurer looking for gold or a scientist attempting to identify new sea creatures or a superhero rescuing a fair maiden from a watery death. He had an excellent imagination, and he could keep himself amused for hours on end, coming out of the pool looking much like a prune.

And while the two young people spent their carefree afternoons in the sunshine around the pool, Snape stayed inside and watched them surreptitiously. They were beautiful together, he decided, well matched physically and personality-wise. They touched often in his presence, sharing a quick kiss or holding hands or intertwining their feet when they sat on the sofa together. When they were outside his immediate presence, the kisses became longer, the touches more intimate, and Snape became a shameless voyeur, envious of what they had together. He was still somewhat amazed that they had accepted him into their lives as they had done – their relationship during the youngsters' tenure at school, especially during their last year there, had been contentious, but Harry and Hermione had, by all accounts, taken very good care of Snape, weak and unconscious, while he was recovering from the snakebite. They'd been nothing but respectful and polite to him since he'd recovered enough to rejoin them in living their daily lives. They'd somehow put aside years of animosity and just accepted him for what he was. He knew there was little reason for him to remain here with them any longer – he was recovered completely and could certainly live on his own. But they hadn't mentioned his leaving, and Snape wasn't about to ruin a good thing by suggesting it himself.

So he watched, and he envied, and he yearned to belong to someone like they belonged to each other.

##########

"Come out to the pool with me," Harry suggested to Hermione as they lay in bed one sweltering night in early August. It was too hot to sleep, and they'd been lying side by side in the bed, naked, not touching, the very act of breathing causing them to sweat.

"The pool? This late?"

"Look at the moon. It's bright as day out there," Harry said, and indeed, Hermione could see through the window that the moon had lit up the night with a beautifully eerie light.

"All right," Hermione agreed. She slid out of bed and opened a drawer to find her suit.

"You won't need that," Harry told her, slipping up behind her and snaking his arms around her waist. She felt his already-hardening cock press against her arse cheeks.

"But what about Severus?"

Harry moved aside a hank of hair so he could kiss her lovely neck. "What about him? He's probably asleep. We'll be quiet."

Hermione pressed back into Harry's erection. "I'm wearing my robe until we get outside," she proposed.

"Suit yourself," he said, intending to walk to the pool starkers. If Snape was up and about, he'd get an eyeful, but it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.

The water was soothingly cool as they slid into it. Harry took Hermione into his arms. Her skin glowed in the ethereal moonlight, and he couldn't keep his hands from roaming over her or his cock from nudging between her legs, seeking entrance. They kissed for a time, wrapped in each other's arms, Harry frotting greedily, Hermione clutching his arse cheeks and dragging him closer.

Harry's mouth left her lips and trailed down her neck, stopping to nibble on her collar bone, then dropping lower and taking one swollen nipple between his lips. He worked her sensitive nipple with only his lips and tongue, knowing that teeth were too much for her, until she was moaning out her want. He moved to the other and gave it the same attention. Hermione's fingers wound their way through his hair, holding him in place until she felt like she could come just from that, and she pulled him up into another hungry kiss.

Harry wanted to devour her where she stood. He pulled away from the kiss to gather his tenuous self-control and instead pulled her into a tight hug. Resting his cheek on her hair, he looked up at the moon. A movement from inside the house caught his attention, and he stared briefly at the window in question.

"Hermione," he whispered into her ear, knowing that windows were open in the house, "I think Snape's watching us."

Hermione shuddered, then made to pull back, but Harry held her tight. "Should we go back inside?"

"Is that what you want?" Harry asked. It wasn't what he wanted, but he would, as always, respect her wishes.

"No," she confessed, pulling back enough to look into his face.

Harry's eyes were shining with the lust that had increased two-fold since discovering they had an audience. "If he's going to watch, we should give him a good show, don't you think?"

"Isn't that just a little cruel?" Hermione asked, hesitant. "I mean, he's all alone, and . . ." she trailed off.

"You could go invite him to join us," Harry suggested, closing in again to nibble an ear lobe.

Hermione's hands came up out of the water and grabbed the sides of Harry's head, pushing him away so that she could look into his eyes. "I've been thinking about that," she admitted.

"You, too?" Harry asked, pleased.

"He's dead sexy," Hermione said. "I bet he's gorgeous under all those clothes – wiry and sinewy and strong. And they say men with big noses are well-endowed in other areas."

Harry's face lit up. "He must have a monster cock when he's hard! I mean, I've seen it, when I changed his pajamas, and it was pretty impressive even when sleeping." His own cock felt huge now as it bobbed between them, swollen with need, pulsing with the desire for release. "Oh God, Hermione! I need you."

Harry pushed her to the edge of the pool, where the depth was such that his face came level with the pool deck, and he hefted her up onto the side, pushed her legs apart gently, and buried his nose in the folds of her vagina. Hermione threw her head back and groaned loudly.

Inside the house, Snape's eyes widened at the sudden move, and his hand slipped its way into his pants. He'd been unable to sleep due to the heat, and had gotten up to get a glass of water. He'd looked out the window and then stood glued to the spot when he discovered what was going on in the backyard.

Harry's tongue worked its way as deeply into Hermione as he could force it at this angle. He reached up and opened her further with his fingers, baring her clitoris to his view and a direct assault by his tongue. Hermione gasped and pushed herself into his ministrations, coming quickly, as he'd intended.

Inside the house, Snape's cock was harder than it had been in a long time, and he stroked it firmly as Hermione threw her head back and came on Potter's tongue. Through the slightly open window, he heard her cry out in her orgasm, and he pulled down on his balls to stop himself from coming with her.

Hermione dropped back into the water and slid down Harry's body, slowing so that Harry could direct his needy cock into her. She lowered herself onto him slowly, the feeling strange in the water. She'd just come and should have plenty of lubrication, but the water made her feel somewhat dry. When Harry started to move inside her, that extra friction, rather than being uncomfortable, made her want to orgasm again immediately.

"Oh Harry!" she moaned, dropping her mouth to his shoulder and biting gently.

Harry began to thrust up into her, and Hermione's legs went around his waist. The water around them began to thrash as Harry's movements became frantic. He clung to Hermione but kept his eyes on that window, suspecting that on the other side, Snape had what was likely an impressive cock in his hand as he watched them coupling. He wished he knew how close Snape was, because he wanted to come together with the watching man. Harry hoped he was ready, because there was no holding back his own orgasm now, and he exploded up inside Hermione with stream after stream of hot spunk, shouting nonsense words with his release. Hermione, almost overstimulated now, came again and again, or maybe continually, while he rode out the waves of his release.

They clung to each other, breathing heavily, until Harry pulled his softening cock from Hermione, causing her to shudder against him. "Do you think he'd want to . . ." Harry asked.

"I don't know. We don't even know if he likes men or women or how he'd feel about a threesome, especially with the two of us. If you're serious about this, we can just . . . watch him. See how he reacts."

"Oh, I'm very serious. He's so fucking sexy, and I miss what we had with Ron. Or what we _could_ have had with Ron, I guess would be more correct, if he'd been willing."

"I think it's too soon to approach him now. We'd probably scare the shite right out of him," Hermione guessed.

"But soon, right?" Snape was right here, under their noses, and now that he knew they both wanted the snarky git, keeping his hands and his thoughts to himself might prove difficult.

"Soon," Hermione promised.

Harry marveled at how lucky he was to have this girl – she was so beautiful and smart and talented, and she had a wickedly adventurous sexy side. He pulled her close and whispered into her ear, "I love you, Hermione Granger."

Inside the house, Snape cleaned up the evidence of his activities and watched them cling to each other in the water. Physically sated, his chest and guts felt tight, empty. What the two Gryffindors had was something special and wonderful – he could see that even from this far away. That he would never have anything that even approached that was driven home to him as he stood in this darkened room, spying on love. He sighed at his maudlin thoughts, then got back into bed to attempt once again to sleep.

##########

Life became a pleasant sort of torture for Snape from that point. His housemates became increasingly casual with their affections towards one another. What used to be kisses that were little more than pecks to a cheek or lips became open-mouthed, tongue-involved wrestling matches, in Snape's presence. What used to be casual, brief touches turned into blatant caresses and even downright groping. On more than one occasion, Snape had to leave the room when they got involved to avoid embarrassing himself. If they guessed that he was going into this room or the loo to toss off, they never said anything.

Snape could not explain their behavior. He'd known they were involved before, but they'd always been respectful of his presence and behaved accordingly. But now they didn't seem to care that someone was in the room with them. Either they'd lost all their inhibitions or they had some ulterior motive for their behavior. But if it was the latter, what purpose could be served by driving Snape to distraction with their overtly sexual behavior? Were they playing with him, teasing him, flaunting what they had to someone who had nothing? Neither of them had been cruel to him at all, and he didn't think they would do this to him, but he was at a loss to explain just what was going on here. Because he didn't understand and he was inherently cynical, he suspected the worst, and reacted to them accordingly.

##########

"We have to do something," Harry said several days later, running a soapy flannel down Hermione's back and over her arse. "He's been completely impossible to live with."

Snape was snarky on a good day. Since they'd initiated their less than subtle campaign to seduce the older man into their bed, he'd been downright horrible. He'd retained nearly the same level of irritation with Harry that he'd exhibited back in school, but since coming to live with them, he'd been much more respectful of Hermione. Now he was scalding them both with his temper.

"I'm sure you've noticed he leaves the room every time we get started with each other," Hermione said, stealing the flannel from Harry's hand and running it over his erect cock, then down over his balls. "We're probably driving him spare, and he likely doesn't have any idea why."

"So it's time we made it plain," Harry stated boldly, catching her hand and stilling it before he got too far gone.

Hermione sighed. "I think you're right. The way it's going now, he's going to hex one of us before we can get across to him what we want."

"So, how do we do this? Do we just walk up and say, 'Excuse me, Professor, care to shag? No, not her _or_ me – her _and_ me.' Speaking of hexes – "

"I think we could be a _little_ more subtle," Hermione said with a smile, pressing her body close to his. "One of us should approach him, sort of feel him out."

"That should probably be you. You know how he feels about me. If I approach him first, he's going to think I'm joking or playing a prank or something."

"All right," Hermione agreed. "Wish me luck."

"You're going to do it _now_?"" Harry squeaked.

Hermione shrugged. "No time like the present. But first, let me wash that mop of yours."

##########

"I didn't hear your usual dissonant warblings in the shower, Mr. Potter," Severus noted when Harry, his hair still wet, entered the kitchen.

Before Harry could puzzle out what he meant and then respond, Hermione stepped in behind him. Her hair was also wet, and as Severus looked from one of them to the other, it didn't take him but a moment to figure out that Harry had been too busy in the shower for singing. "Oh," escaped from his lips before he could stop it.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. Harry nodded, then left Hermione to it.

Harry retired to the bedroom, hoping he'd be joined there soon by Hermione and Severus. He wondered if he should strip and arrange himself provocatively on the bed in anticipation. His cock began to harden at the thought, and he forced himself to keep his clothes on, sit on the bed, and wait patiently.

##########

An air of discomfort hung in the air after Harry left. Severus, who had been sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a periodical, stood up now and placed his empty cup in the sink.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Hermione said, stepping in front of Snape to prevent him from fleeing.

"You haven't . . ." Severus started to protest, but stopped when he realized just how close the young woman was standing to him. "What are you doing?"

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked, looking up at him, all guileless brown eyes and faux innocence.

Severus Snape could never admit that a mere girl-child had enough power over him to make him uncomfortable, but he couldn't seem to form words, so he shook his head in the negative.

And then things got even more bizarre. Hermione reached down for Snape's hand and encircled it with her own. She stretched up on her toes and planted a kiss on Snape's lips. It was more than a friendly kiss and less than a passionate kiss, but it was definitely a kiss. Despite his shock, Snape found himself kissing her back, seemingly unable to resist.

When she pulled away, he looked down at her in confusion. "What is this?" he asked, bewildered.

"I like you, Severus. I want to get to know you . . . better." Hermione threaded her arms around his waist and pulled him close, pressing the lower half of her body against his.

Snape's arms, seemingly of their own volition, encircled the girl's waist. He felt himself growing hard and thought he should pull away from her before she discovered his shameless reaction, but she put paid to that thought by grinding her pelvis against him.

"Miss Granger . . ." he began.

"Hermione," she corrected, her voice a sultry whisper, nuzzling her nose into his armpit.

Snape closed his eyes and lowered his nose to her hair, inhaling her rich feminine scent. "Miss Granger, as much as I might appreciate what you are offering, and as much as I might be interested in accepting your offer, I find, surprisingly enough, that I am unable to betray Mr. Potter like this. I cannot do this to him."

A second male body stepped up behind Hermione and pressed itself up against her back. His arms went around both Hermione and Severus, startling the other man.

"How about you do this _with_ him?" Harry suggested.

Severus' head shot up and he met Harry's eyes over the top of Hermione's head. It was immediately obvious that the young man was not joking, but Severus had to ask. "Are you serious?"

"Are you interested? In having both of us, I mean?"

Hermione moaned as she felt Snape's hard cock shifting against her. "Oh, I'd say he's interested." She reached down to run an appreciative hand over the large bulge.

Snape's breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to ask, "Both of you? Together?"

Harry nodded, then reached up over Hermione to kiss Severus, demonstrating that he was, indeed, serious about this offer.

"I think we should take this discussion to the bedroom."

##########

Severus Snape had never thought of himself as shy before, but now, as he was led to the bedroom by two people half his age, he felt like a blushing virgin bride on her wedding night. He wondered how long he'd have to enjoy this dream before he woke, alone in his own bed.

When they arrived in the bedroom, no one spoke before Harry set to the buttons on Severus' shirt. His fingers were nimble and quick, and he kept his eyes trained on Severus' while he worked. Once he had the shirt unbuttoned, he pushed it off Severus' shoulders by running his hands up over the man's pectoral muscles, palming both nipples roughly. Behind him now, Hermione pulled the shirt down off his arms and tossed it aside. She then stepped up to his back and pressed what Severus could feel were her naked breasts up against him. Her arms came round to the front, and Harry directed her hands down to the button and zip on Severus' trousers. She worked both open with a minimum of trouble, then pushed his trousers down over his hips. Harry finished taking them to the floor. Severus could only stand there, drowning in sensation, as he was tag-teamed by these two incredible creatures.

Down to his pants, Severus felt a blush creeping over his cheeks at the way Harry was looking him over. His very hard cock made an impressive tent in his pants, a tiny wet spot forming at the apex. Harry reached out with one finger and touched that single spot, causing Snape's cock to jump vigorously.

"May I?" Harry asked, sliding just the tips of his fingers under the waistband of Severus' boxers, a hand at each hip.

Severus tried to speak, found himself incapable, and nodded instead. Reverently, slowly, as though he were revealing a great historical treasure to the world for the first time, Harry pushed Snape's underpants down, being careful to raise the material completely up and over that glorious prick, then let them fall to the floor. Harry went down with them and ended up on his knees. His mouth mere millimeters from the end of Snape's desperate cock, he licked his lips and looked up at Severus.

Trapping Severus' even darker than normal eyes with his own dark green orbs, Harry extended his tongue and touched it to the bead of pre-come which had formed at the slit of Snape's cock. Snape shuddered and used every ounce of control he had not to thrust himself rudely into that teasing mouth. He had manners – he could wait for an invitation. Fortunately, that invitation wasn't long in arriving. Harry opened his mouth as wide as possible and surrounded Snape's hardness with moist, devastating heat.

Snape couldn't stop the small involuntary thrust forward that brought the head of his cock into contact with the back of Harry's throat, and he just knew at that moment that he was going to embarrass himself by coming eagerly and way too soon, like a thirteen-year old virgin with a Knockturn Alley pro. He wanted to stop it. He wanted to enjoy what Potter was going to do to him for a very long time. Perhaps this was a one-off, and he'd never have this chance again. But he hadn't been with anyone in _years_, and two overwhelming things happened simultaneously: Hermione's hands came around him again, one of them circling the base of his cock, keeping it steady for Harry's plundering mouth, and the other dropping lower, to cup and fondle his balls. And Snape looked down at the messy black head bobbing up and down on his prick, which he was sure had never been harder in his life, and he thought, _Harry Potter is sucking my cock_.

And that was all it took. Snape exploded, his entire body feeling as though molten lava was coursing through it. The initial purge seemed to last forever, and the aftershocks went on for what became an excruciatingly pain/pleasure-filled time. Once most of his release had left him, Snape's cock quickly became sensitive, and he wanted to pull it out of Potter's mouth, but he also wanted to leave it there forever because skirting on the edge of pleasure and discomfort made him feel so . . . alive, like he hadn't been in a very long time, maybe ever.

Finally, it was over. Harry seemed to sense the exact moment when Snape needed him to let him go, and he released Snape's now spent cock, placing a gentle kiss on the limp shaft. Snape thought it possible that if Granger hadn't been holding him up from behind, with Potter providing a counterpoint by resting his head against Snape's groin, he would have collapsed to the floor.

He now found his voice. "I am sorry," he said. "That was . . . embarrassingly fast."

Harry looked up at him. "We're not finished," the boy promised. "In fact, we're only getting started."

Harry began to rise to his feet, so Snape held out a hand in an offer of assistance. Harry took it and rose gracefully. "You are delicious," he said, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

Snape felt his blush again. How did one respond to that?

"Did you save me any?" Hermione asked from somewhere behind Snape's back. She'd let him go, causing him to immediately feel the loss of her warm body and cushy breasts.

Harry grinned mischievously at her around Snape. "Sorry. You'll have to get your own." Harry playfully slapped Snape's arse, making the older man jump. "On the bed with you," he ordered.

Snape glared down at him, so many things wrong with this situation that it was hard to pick one thing to snark about. "First of all, Potter, you haven't removed a single item of clothing, yet I am standing here before God and country in nothing but my birthday suit. That situation must be remedied." He cast a look over his shoulder and said, "That goes for you as well, Miss . . ." He stopped when he realized that she was, in fact, already half-naked, and merciful Merlin was she gorgeous. He turned his back to Potter to face her fully, his eyes raking up and down her form, taking in pert breasts topped with large, hard nipples, just the way he liked them, a slim waist, and flat stomach. Her jeans were unzipped, and through the open placket he could see a thatch of pubic hair that was much lighter in color than the hair on her head. She was perfection, and he couldn't help but stand and stare.

"You're drooling," Harry observed, humor in his voice, and he reached up to close Snape's mouth, which had dropped open while he looked his fill. "And you're still not on the bed," which earned him another playful slap.

Snape whirled back around, the swaying of his beautiful package as he did so attracting Harry's attention. "Second of all, if you don't stop striking me, I shall turn you into a centipede."

Harry snorted while reaching out to cup Snape's cock. "That would be dead useful. I could crawl into all sorts of interesting places then." He lifted his eyebrows twice in an attempt at a sensual leer.

"Third of all," Snape said, ignoring the juvenile innuendo successfully but having a much harder time ignoring the boy's hand on his member, "I am significantly older than you. I am no longer capable of multiple orgasms."

"Pish!" Harry disagreed. "You don't know what you're capable of. You've never been with me and Hermione."

"Hermione and me," Snape corrected.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Do you believe this? Bloke's correcting my grammar, after I just gave him the best blowjob he's ever had."

"Cocky, eh, Potter?"

"You're not denying it," Harry pointed out. "And you're _still_ not on the bed." He raised his hand as if to back up his observation with another show of physical persuasion, but dropped it when Snape glared at him. Then he chuckled, not one bit cowed. "Please, Professor Snape, would you care to lie down on the bed while _Hermione and me_ undress."

Snape nodded once, then moved to the bed . Once he had himself situated, he couldn't help but say, "It's Hermione and _I_."

Harry pointed a finger at him in mock anger. "That's it. Just for that, you've got to watch the next round."

Snape thought that sounded acceptable, and he started by watching Harry undress while Hermione rummaged in the bedside table drawer. Harry himself was a pleasure to look at. He wasn't muscular, but he was wiry and solid, and his muscles rippled under his skin as he moved. His chest was speckled with dark hairs, with a more concentrated ring surrounding each nipple, and he had an enticing solid line of hair leading from his belly button down to the larger patch of hair at his groin. His erect cock, bigger than Snape would have expected based on Harry's short stature, flopped up and down while Harry hopped around the room, trying to free his foot from his jeans.

"Taking off your trainers first would have helped," Snape observed helpfully from his place on the bed.

"Git," Harry muttered as he finally freed himself of the last of his clothing.

Completely unclothed now, Hermione stretched out on the bed beside Severus, stretched up, and kissed him. Snape surrendered to it and hardly noticed when Potter landed on the bed beside her.

"Sorry, Hermione," the boy said, "I think I need a quickie first." He positioned himself between her legs. "Snape's got me all hot and bothered."

Hermione pulled away from the kiss with Snape and looked up at Harry. "Go ahead. I'm ready. Won't take much."

Harry positioned himself at her entrance, pressing only the head of his cock between her moist folds. He looked at Snape and nearly came at the lust he saw there in the older man's eyes as he watched Harry and Hermione together. His eyes still on Snape, Harry slid all the way in, then had to close his eyes as pleasure which started from the tip of his cock shot through his body, out through his fingers and toes and up to the ends of his hair. Harry started to slowly move in and out, delaying as long as possible the moment when he would have to pick up the pace.

"Severus," Hermione said, "come here."

Snape scooted closer to her body, and Hermione directed his head to her breast. Snape closed his mouth around her large nipple and began to suckle.

"No teeth," Harry ground out, his mind mostly on his own task. "She doesn't like teeth."

So Snape didn't use his teeth. He worried the nipple with his tongue, clamped his lips around it and massaged it, pulling gently. One of Hermione's hands found its way up into his hair as the pace of Harry's fucking increased, making her breasts jiggle with the movement. Snape lay a hand on her stomach for support, until he felt Hermione push it down to her center. Using a single finger, he found her clitoris, pressed it against the cock pistoning inside her, and was rewarded when she cried out immediately in orgasm.

Using that as his cue, Harry's pace became frantic, and a mere moment later, he came hard inside Hermione. Snape backed his head away enough to get out of the way and removed his hand so that it wasn't crushed between their pelvises as Harry lost almost all control during his orgasm, but not so far that he couldn't watch Harry's face intently while he came.

When he was finished, Harry collapsed atop Hermione, panting heavily. "That was brilliant," he gasped out. He opened one eye and looked at Snape. "You ready for the next round yet?"

Much to his surprise, Snape had hardened while watching the two youngsters and participating to the extent that he had. He looked down at the hard cock lying on his stomach, then back up at Harry. "I am."

"What would you like now?" Harry asked.

What _did _he want? Severus hadn't been with a man or a woman in a very long time, and he wanted it all. "I want everything," he said.

Harry snorted. "You might have to pick one or two things for now. We can do the rest of it later. Or tomorrow. What do you want _first_? Do you bottom? Would you rather have Hermione? Or me? We'll give you whatever you want."

Severus thought about this offer. He wanted to bury his face between Hermione's legs. He wanted to suck Potter deep into his throat. He wanted to bury his cock to the hilt in Hermione's twat, or her arse, or Potter's arse. He wanted Potter to bugger him six ways to Sunday. So many possibilities, so little time.

Harry watched him struggle with the decision for as long as he could stand before he rolled off of Hermione and toward Snape. "How about," he suggested, "we make a Snape sandwich? You, in Hermione. Me, in you."

"That sounds . . . acceptable." Which would be a shoo-in for the Understatement of the Year contest.

Harry rolled over on top of Snape and began kissing the man. Snape could feel the young man's cock, already hard again after his very recent orgasm. Ah, youth. Snape's own prick was correspondingly interested, and he frotted against Harry's stomach while trying to suck the boy's tonsils out.

Harry pulled away after a nice, long kiss. "We need to prepare you," he said. "Roll over."

Snape did, dumping Harry back onto the bed. Hands pulled his arse up off the bed until he was canted at a rather undignified angle, face pressed into the pillow. When he felt small, feminine hands caressing his buttocks, he forgot to be embarrassed about his position and just surrendered himself to the experience.

Harry lay crossways on the bed and worked his head into the space under Snape's belly and began to nibble on the end of Snape's cock. The hands on his arse turned into a lube-covered finger, which circled his hole repeatedly, then pressed gently on the center, slowly entering his tight channel, then withdrawing, then entering again. She'd obviously done this before, and Snape spared a moment to wonder for whom. Then she entered him with two fingers and he was no longer capable of wondering or thinking, only feeling.

By the time she had him thoroughly prepared, Harry had him on the cusp of orgasm again. Hermione took Harry's place on the bed, and pulled Snape on top of her. With one sure slide, he was inside her, surrounded by her pulsing heat. He was grateful he'd come once already, because he likely would have shot his load immediately. Before he could grow accustomed to that sensation, he felt Potter kneel behind him, forcing both his own legs and Hermione's legs to open further.

"We're going to need a pillow under Hermione's bum," Harry observed.

They accomplished this without Severus having to separate from Hermione, and then Harry was back behind him again, pressing his cockhead against Severus' entrance, pushing gently but inexorably. Once his head breached the tight ring of muscle, Harry paused to let Snape adjust to the intrusion. "Okay?" he asked.

"Move, please, Potter."

"Manners, I like that," Harry said before pushing further into the welcoming heat. When he was fully seated, he stopped again, both for Snape's comfort and to gain control of the raging need he felt to pound Snape into the mattress.

"Potter," Snape growled.

"All right," Harry agreed, and he began to move. He tried to go slowly – he didn't want to hurt Hermione after all.

"All right down there?" he managed to ask.

"I'm . . . oh, yeah," she groaned as a particularly hard thrust from Harry drove Snape at just the right angle and depth into Hermione. "Do that again!" she demanded. So he did, again and again and again until he was mindless with the motion. Hermione came first, crying out, "Fuck!" just before she let go. The men fell like dominoes after that, Hermione's orgasm milking Snape's and Snape's pulling Harry's from the soles of his feet.

They lay in a heap, panting, until Hermione said, "Can't . . . breathe."

Harry pulled out of Snape and lifted up so that Snape could pull out of Hermione and roll off her. Harry settled between them, spooning up against Snape and pulling Hermione tight against him. Snape put an arm over both of them and a leg over Harry's and fell asleep almost instantly.

##########

Snape awoke a short time later, sure that he'd just had the most amazing dream. A pressure and weight on his right arm drew him fully awake to the realization that it had not, in fact, been a dream. He was actually in bed with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, all of them naked and covered in seminal fluid, body parts intertwined. He watched his two bedmates sleeping, the urge to hyperventilate coming upon him. He drew in a deep breath to hold off the panic. What, exactly, was going on here? Okay, he'd had sex, repeatedly, with two former students, both of whom were young enough to be his children. And it had been spectacular, and he'd like to do it again, over and over. But would they? When they awoke, in bed with their vile former professor, would they jump up and run screaming, scrubbing their memories of what they'd done earlier? Would they hex him and accuse him of imperiusing them? Maybe he should get out of here now, while he still had a small shred of his dignity and all of his limbs.

In order to make his escape, though, he needed his arm, which was currently lodged under Potter's very warm dead weight. Cautiously, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, he began to work himself free. He'd almost made it when Potter's eyes blinked open.

Snape stared down at him, aware that the moment of truth had arrived. He couldn't run now, unless he wanted to look like a complete coward, which, truthfully, was beginning to look like an attractive option. Until Harry smiled sleepily at him, his eyes glowing with happiness.

"You're still here," Harry said, wonder in his voice, and he rolled onto his side, into Severus' embrace, snuggling in until his head rested on the older man's shoulder. Once he'd settled himself, he sighed happily.

"Did you think I'd leave?" Snape dared to ask, his heart beating a strange tattoo.

He felt Harry shrug. "I thought maybe you'd regret what we did. I know we're not exactly your favorite people."

Should he confess now that Harry and Hermione actually were currently tied at the top of his Favorite Person List? Nah – better keep that to himself for now. "I find your level of annoyance to be tolerable at the moment."

Harry chuckled. "That's good," he said, still sounding sleepy.

They lay quietly for a time, Severus running his hand through Harry's hair, which the young man seemed to like if the way he was craning his neck up into the contact was any indication. If Potter was a cat, he'd be purring.

"May I ask you a question?" Snape suddenly asked.

"Mm hmm."

"Your relationship with Ronald Weasley – did you – was he – Have I replaced Ronald Weasley?"

Harry's body stiffened with tension for a moment, but Snape continued petting him, and he eventually went limp again. "You haven't replaced Ron, no."

"So you didn't have a sexual relationship with Mr. Weasley?"

"No, I didn't. Hermione did, and I had a sexual relationship with Hermione, but Ron wasn't interested in anything more than that. He could hardly tolerate me in the bed with them, and the one time I touched him, he nearly came unglued. Hermione and I both wanted someone we could share things with, but Ron is straight as a plank."

"And is that what drove him away from you?"

"What drove him away," Hermione offered from her side of the bed, "was the fact that when he forced me to choose between him and Harry, I wouldn't give up Harry."

Harry rolled away from Snape, leaving the older man feeling suddenly cold, and rolled into Hermione's embrace. "Sorry, love. Did we wake you?"

Hermione kissed Harry on the forehead and ruffled his hair playfully. "It's all right." She stretched her arms above her head. "We can't stay abed all day." She looked over Harry at Snape. "How are you, Severus?"

"I am . . . well," he said, meaning it.

##########

Snape had had a very good day. Still flying from the unexpected sexual experience he'd shared with his housemates, he'd flooed to Hogwarts early in the afternoon, under Harry's invisibility cloak and at the invitation of Minerva. He'd spent two hours traipsing about the Forbidden Forest with his oldest friend, collecting several potions ingredients. They'd then repaired to her quarters, where they'd shared half a bottle of really good scotch. When Snape came through the door, he was very happy and very mellow, and he was met by a strangely eager Harry. "You're back. I . . . dinner's ready."

"I should like to bathe first. Is there time?" Snape asked as Harry solicitously helped him to remove his traveling cloak.

"Um . . . sure. I guess. So long as you're quick. Everything's hot now."

Something about the boy's excitement told him that this was no ordinary meal. Snape stared down at him. "Don't tell me – you cooked."

Feeling oddly shy and proud about it, Harry dropped his eyes. "Mm hmm."

Snape snorted loudly in derision. "You? Do you forget that I've witnessed your proficiency with mixing ingredients together with an intended goal in mind? Do you actually think I'd subject myself to your pathetic attempt to put a meal on the table?"

"That's not funny," Harry muttered.

"Oh, I assure you, I was not trying to be 'funny'."

Harry looked up at him, his eyes swimming in a sea of hurt, which caught Snape by surprise. "Fine," he said, and he let Snape's cloak slip through his fingers to the floor before turning and leaving the older man standing in the hallway watching him go.

##########

To be continued . . .

**Note:** The song Harry sings here is _Come Back to Me_, from "On a Clear Day You Can See Forever"


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE FOR ALL**

**by Warviben**

**Summary: **Harry and Hermione grow closer after Ron leaves them during the hunt for horcruxes. Their lives become even more interesting when Severus Snape joins them after the final battle. Strong warnings for sexual content.

**Warning:** This fic is for grown-ups. It contains detailed descriptions of sexual activities between two characters (a male and a female) and three characters (a female and two males). If you are not old enough, or if this type of thing is not for you, please stop reading now.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or the basic premise for their existence. I guess I do own some of the characters that come later – you'll know who they are.

_##########_

_From Chapter 2:_

_Snape snorted loudly in derision. "You? Do you forget that I've witnessed your proficiency with mixing ingredients together with an intended goal in mind? Do you actually think I'd subject myself to your pathetic attempt to put a meal on the table?"_

"_That's not funny," Harry muttered._

"_Oh, I assure you, I was not trying to be 'funny'."_

_Harry looked up at him, his eyes swimming in a sea of hurt, which caught Snape by surprise. "Fine," he said, and he let Snape's cloak slip through his fingers to the floor before turning and leaving the older man standing in the hallway watching him go._

##########

Snape entered the dining room as Hermione placed the last dish on the table. She smiled thinly at him, then sat and waited for him to join her. The empty seat between them spoke loudly to both of them.

"Is Potter not joining us?" Snape asked.

"No. He's . . . he's not hungry," Hermione said, her eyes on her plate.

Snape sensed something amiss. "Is he ill?"

"No. Not ill exactly, he's just . . ."

"Just what?" Snape pressed.

Hermione sighed. "He gets into these . . . moods sometimes. If I had to guess, I'd say he's clinically depressed. Most of the time, he's fine, but every now and then, something will set him off, and he gets withdrawn. He won't eat, he's lethargic, cares very little about what's going on around him. These little fits used to last days, but now that I know how to handle them, I can usually bring him out of them in a few hours."

Helping himself to the food on the table without really paying attention to what it was, Snape asked, "And what sorts of things set him off?"

"It can be anything – a nightmare about the war, seeing someone that triggers a memory, a sound, a smell." Hermione looked directly into Snape's eyes. "An unpleasant reminder about the way things used to be."

Snape brought himself upright in defensive consternation. "You're saying I did this by teasing Potter earlier?"

"Teasing?" Hermione challenged. "From what he told me, you were downright cruel to him."

"But Potter and I have always had a barely civil, very adversarial relationship. I've said many much worse things to him, things that I actually meant, and they rolled off his back like so much water off a duck."

Hermione sighed. "Things were different then, weren't they?"

"Different?" Snape asked, feeling stupid, as though the answer was right before him and he just couldn't, or wouldn't, see it.

"Of course they're different, Severus. Don't be obtuse on purpose. You and Harry and I . . . we no longer have a student-teacher dynamic. We've gone beyond friends, even. When you have sex with someone, things change, especially if it's not a one-off. Whether or not you want to, you begin to expect certain things from the other person, things like basic decency. You begin to trust that they won't deliberately hurt you or be cruel. Harry's one of the toughest people I know, but he's vulnerable in ways that I'm still learning. His childhood did that – the lack of touch and affection. He's so desperate for it now that when he gets it, he idolizes the person giving it to him, whether or not that person deserves it. I'm trying to deserve it, because I know that it would be so easy to hurt him, destroy him even, with what I know about him. But loving someone means not wanting to do anything that causes pain, especially intentionally. You've always known his soft spots, Severus, and your opinion means so much to him, especially now. You also have the power to destroy him."

Snape sat back, amazed at her words. "So when I teased Potter earlier, he took that as a rejection?"

"Do you see what's on the table, Severus?" Hermione asked.

He hadn't, but he took the time to do so now. All of his favorite foods lay before him, and he looked up at Hermione, shocked.

"Do you remember that conversation we had, the first night we were here? When we were all so hungry? We talked about our favorite foods that the house elves served. Harry remembered. And he made them all for you, out of the goodness of his heart, because he wants so desperately to please you, somewhere other than in bed."

Snape stared down at his plate. He felt about three inches tall. "And I repaid him by belittling his potions skills. Potions and cooking are so much alike, and I thought . . ."

"You thought because he was rubbish at one that he'd be no good at the other?" When Severus nodded, Hermione continued, "What you don't know is that from a very young age, Harry was made to cook for his family. What you also don't know is that Harry would likely be excellent at potion-making, for that very reason, but for the belligerent bastard that served as the potions master at the school we attended, who belittled his every effort and seemed to begrudge the very fact that he drew breath. Not an atmosphere conducive for anyone to reach their potential, now is it?"

"But there were reasons . . . you must understand now that . . ."

Hermione interrupted him because she really didn't want to hear his excuses. "We're not _there_ now, Severus. Harry has put his animosity for you behind him, because he knows you're not that person. You don't even know what kind of person Harry truly is, because you've never attempted to get to know this Harry. He's not the same person as back then either." Hermione reached over and took his hand. "Severus, both Harry and I are pleased with the way things have turned out here." She squeezed his hand comfortingly. "We both want you in our lives, and we think this has the potential to turn into something long-term, if that's what you want. But I won't let you hurt him, deliberately, over and over again. Just as I wouldn't let him do that to you."

Severus looked away. "I don't know as I'm capable of becoming an entirely different person, much as I might want to to avoid losing what you have offered to me."

"No one wants you to change drastically, Severus. We like you just as you are, for the most part. But the deliberate cruelty, the cutting insults – you can curb them. You've had practice holding your tongue. Do that now, until it becomes habit. I think you'll find the response you receive from Harry will be worth it. Now I suggest we eat so that we can go take care of Harry."

"'We'?" Severus questioned, not sure why she'd want to include him in the cure since he was responsible for the problem.

"Yes, Severus, 'we'," she said with a kind smile.

"Let's go now, then. Fix him up so he can eat."

"It won't work quite that quickly. He'll need to sleep on it before he can get completely back to himself. But we should eat. We'll not want to be distracted. Go ahead. I think you'll find it quite good."

And he did. Severus was surprised and impressed with Harry's efforts and the results, and he ate with more interest than he had in some time, although nostalgia for Hogwarts was niggling at him now that today's reminders were before him. Still, he had something worth fighting for here, now, and he put thoughts of the past away from him when he lay down his fork.

"What now?" he asked.

##########

Hermione entered the darkened bedroom, followed closely by Severus. Harry sat in the window seat, eyes to the window but seeing nothing, his shoulders hunched in defeat, his arms wrapped around his knees.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, "I'm going to run the bath water now. I'll just be a moment."

Harry gave no acknowledgment that he'd heard her, and Hermione crossed to the bathroom door and disappeared inside. Severus stood in the door, unsure of his welcome or of the benefit to his being here. He'd driven Harry into this incommunicative state, he thought, as he watched the despondent young man from across the room, and he was surprised to feel his heart ache at that thought. He'd do anything to correct what he'd done, but he wasn't sure how. Hermione had wanted him present, but she'd told him to remain in the background, out of the way, while she dealt with Harry.

To the background of the water running into the tub, Hermione emerged and began to ready things in the bedroom: she withdrew Harry's pajamas from the drawer and placed them on the bed, then put a clean pair of underpants on top of them. She picked his house robe up from the floor and shook it out, then hung it on the hook over the door. She retrieved his slippers from under the bed and lined them up neatly below the pajamas before drawing back the duvet and sheet on the bed and piling the pillows up against the headboard. She returned to the bathroom, and Severus heard the tap turned off.

Hermione returned and approached Harry carefully. "Harry," she said gently, "the bath is ready. Come, love." She picked up his hand and tugged on it. Like a small child, Harry rose and allowed himself to be led into the bathroom. Severus moved to the bed and sat so that he could see and hear what was going on in the other room.

Carefully, Hermione undressed an unresponsive Harry, speaking quietly to him all the while, until he stood, nude and uncaring, on the bath rug. "In we go," Hermione encouraged, once again taking Harry's hand and leading him into the tub. Harry went where he was bidden, unprotesting but not actively participating, and sat in the water, staring down at his own feet.

As Hermione soaped a flannel and began to wash Harry's back, stroking his hair and offering words of comfort, the scent of lavender wafted out to Severus' spot on the bed. Lavender, Snape knew, was used frequently as a sleep aid, so the apparent purpose of this bath was to relax Harry enough to sleep. Made sense, Severus supposed, since Hermione had said that Harry would need to sleep this off.

The bath took no longer than ten minutes, then Hermione left Harry to soak for a bit while she left the room, instructing Severus to keep an eye on Harry but not to speak to him. Harry didn't move, not a single muscle as far as Snape could discern, in the few minutes that Hermione was gone. When she returned, she bore a tray containing a pot of chamomile tea and a plate of the biscuits that Harry seemed inordinately fond of. She set this tray on the bedside table, motioned Severus to the arm chair before the fire, and went to retrieve Harry from the bath.

Dried and shivering and wrapped in a towel, Harry was led into the bedroom and made to sit on the edge of the bed. Hermione removed the towel and threaded his arms through his pajama top, buttoned him up, then helped him to sit back against the pillows piled by the headboard and covered his legs with the duvet. She levitated the tea tray to hover beside them, poured Harry a cup of tea, and pressed it into his hand. She made his hand approach his mouth, but once it got there, Harry willingly sipped at the tea. After he'd taken a couple of sips, Hermione placed a biscuit into his mouth. Harry's lips closed around her fingers as he drew the treat into his mouth, making Hermione smile. When she withdrew her fingers, she used them to stroke his cheek lovingly. Across the room, Snape was instantly hard and rather ashamed of himself for it.

After Harry had eaten three biscuits, he shook his head no when Hermione tried to press a fourth upon him. She floated the tray with the remaining tea things to the floor, used her wand to eliminate any crumbs that may have been left behind in the bed, and eased Harry into a prone position on the bed, his head supported by a single pillow. Once Harry was stretched out on the bed, Severus could see that the young man was as hard as he was, causing Severus' breath to quicken. He thought he might lose control altogether when Hermione began to disrobe.

Once she was completely unclothed, Hermione slid onto the bed and took Harry's erection into her mouth. Harry's eyes closed, his expression blissful, as his young lover slurped lovingly on his dick. Severus eyed Hermione's lithe form, curled on the bed beside Harry, her head going up and down on his cock, the one cheek he could see concave with the effort of her suction. Unable to help himself, Severus placed his hand over his own erection, stroking the head through the cloth with his thumb, driving his own arousal higher.

For the longest time, Harry lay somehow still beneath Hermione's talented mouth. When he finally began to move, making small upthrusts with his hips, Hermione released him from her mouth and sat back on her heels, still holding onto the base of his cock so that it pointed straight up at the ceiling. Severus couldn't help but stare at that impressive pole, slick with Hermione's saliva, and had to bite on his unoccupied hand to keep himself from groaning.

Hermione now swung a leg over Harry's thighs so that she was straddling him. Still with a hold on his cock and holding herself above it, Hermione rubbed at her vagina with the reddened head until she judged herself ready, then she inserted Harry's throbbing manhood and slowly lowered herself onto it. Severus wished he could see her face as she did so, but realized this view was quite nice as well when she, fully seated, leaned forward to press her breasts to Harry's chest. Running a hand soothingly through his hair and murmuring something Severus couldn't hear, Hermione began moving up and down on Harry's stiff cock, riding him slowly and rhythmically. Severus couldn't see her face, he couldn't see Harry's face, but what he did see was driving him mad with lust. Hermione's arse cheeks, nicely rounded and perfectly proportioned, lifting and dropping with the precision of a metronome, that beautiful cock between her legs, disappearing and reappearing, wetter each time with the product of Hermione's natural lubrication. When Harry began to twitch up to meet her downward thrusts, Hermione sat up and slammed down hard on him, stilling his hips with her weight. Once Harry got the message and stopped moving, Hermione began bouncing up and down, small thrusts punctuated every so often a grinding down of her pelvis on Harry's. Hermione whimpered, but Harry remained silent, until at last his orgasm rushed out of him with a breath. "Oh, Her–" he managed to squeak out before he could speak no more. Only then did Hermione let Harry have control, raising herself slightly off his hips so that he could finish his orgasm by thrusting up into her as deeply as he needed. Seven, eight thrusts later (Severus counted), then Harry pushed up once more, fully ensheathing himself in Hermione's now-drenched pussy, before finishing with countless short jabs, each one accompanied by a breathed "oh". When he finally stilled, Hermione leant forward and kissed him tenderly. She leant forward to press their chests together again, straightening her legs out somewhat stiffly as she did so, then rolled them both so they were lying on their sides, facing each other.

"Open your eyes, Harry," Hermione instructed quietly.

Harry did, his green eyes large with wonder and satiation. Hermione kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you," she said.

Harry shook his head. "No. Thank _you_." He pressed forward to kiss Hermione's lips, a kiss that lasted nearly a minute. When they pulled apart, Hermione said, "I love you. You sleep now."

Harry closed his eyes immediately, leaving Severus to wonder if she'd magicked him to sleep, and murmured, "Love you, too". She stayed with Harry for a moment longer, stroking his hair. She looked over at Severus now, who was sure he'd been forgotten, and raised a finger to her lips, asking for his silence. He nodded his understanding, his hand still moving over his covered erection, aching now for release. Hermione gave him a stern look and shook her head, and Severus understood this to mean that he should desist at his self-pleasuring activities. So he was to be punished then, he guessed, for upsetting Harry. He probably deserved it, so he obeyed with a small inward sigh.

When Hermione was assured, by Harry's breathing evening out into the familiar pattern of sleep, she whispered to Severus, "Undo your trousers."

Surprised, Severus' startled eyes went to Hermione's, and he was instantly aware by the interest he saw there that he was not to be punished after all. He hastily complied, opening the placket of his trousers and pulling his turgid member somewhat painfully through it. He looked up at Hermione for her approval and got it when she licked her lips slowly.

Brushing a kiss across Harry's forehead, Hermione quietly disentangled herself from her sleeping lover and the bed sheet, magicked the rest of Harry's clothes onto him, and crossed to Severus, who avidly watched her approach, her naked sinewy form enticing him in ways that someone this much younger than himself shouldn't. Without speaking, Hermione climbed into his lap, now straddling _him_, and the memory of her doing the same to Potter only moments before had him arching up into her, desperate for contact. Stilling him with a hand to his chest, Hermione reached down between her own legs and drew a finger through her dripping folds. This finger she inserted into her own mouth, causing Severus to groan loudly. She sucked noisily on the finger for a moment before withdrawing it and spearing herself again. This time, she offered the finger to Severus, who accepted it greedily, tasting Potter and feminine lust and delicious, incredible sin. He sucked on her finger with abandon, almost not noticing when Hermione took hold of his yearning cock and suddenly and without warning lowered herself down onto it.

But he did notice the sudden tightness surrounding him, and his mouth dropped open in intense pleasure, causing the finger to fall out of his mouth. He cried out at its loss, then at the amazing feeling of Hermione's semen-drenched vagina milking his prick steadily. He knew he wouldn't last long. Watching the two youngsters together had been more arousing than anything he'd ever seen, and now he had this siren-like creature tormenting him, driving his pleasure level into the stratosphere, and he knew he had no choice. He was going to explode. The only question was whether it would be his cock or his heart which would give out first.

Luckily for him, his cock led the charge, and with a low, lusty cry, he drove himself up into her one final time and stopped for a millisecond before pulse upon pulse of ejaculate shot their way up to join that already deposited there by another man. Hermione ground herself down against him, her clit rubbing into his coarse pubic hairs, but it wasn't enough, and she reached down with a finger to stimulate herself further before she, too, came explosively. The orgasmic massaging of her inner walls on his cock served to stretch Severus' climax out to almost painful proportions, and he was panting when he finally, finally stopped shooting his seed into her and stopped moving, his cock slow to soften in the afterglow.

Hermione collapsed onto him, resting her cheek on his bony clavicle, breathing hard herself. Severus' arms went around her and cradled her protectively. After a few moments of silence punctuated only by heavy breathing, his penis softened and slid out of her with a rather disgusting squelch of fluid. Apparently not disgusted by this, Hermione reached down and gathered some on her fingers. Offering one to Severus, who accepted it without a second thought, she sucked on another herself. Now the finger tasted of all three of them, and Severus thought that nothing could be more perfect than that. When he looked down and saw Hermione, totally nude, laying against his completely clothed body, the only skin of his visible that of his come-covered and shriveled penis, a thrill of naughtiness shuddered through him. That thrill, combined with the taste of their completion in his mouth, actually made his poor spent cock twitch with interest, and he nearly laughed aloud at the sheer astonishing turn his life had taken. He was too exhausted to laugh, or do anything else, though, and he mentally told his cock to give it a rest. It gave one last, heartfelt jerk and then lay still.

Severus felt Hermione's eyes on his face, and he turned to look at her. He'd never considered her beautiful before, but now, looking at her like this, glowing and replete with satisfaction given and taken, twice, he thought he'd never seen a more beautiful sight. She smiled up at him around the finger still in her mouth, a naughty, mischievous smile. He bent his head forward to press his lips chastely to hers.

Harry rolled on the bed, and they stilled, not wanting to wake him. His attention drawn to the boy, he looked down at Hermione again and said sincerely, "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me," she said. "Tell him."

And Severus intended to, just as soon as he could.

##########

Harry sat in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, feeling much back to his usual self. Hermione had learned what he needed and had become expert at giving it to him, those times when everything seemed to overwhelm him and drive him to a place of despair, where it seemed that nothing was worth the effort. When Severus entered the kitchen, the hurt of what he'd said yesterday reared up again, not as overpowering as before but still definitely there, and Harry felt an irresistible urge to get away. His shoulders tensed, he waited for an opportunity to run that wouldn't look too much like he was, in fact, running.

When Severus moved to the stove and took the teapot to the sink to fill it with water, his back to Harry, Harry saw his chance, and he stood, quickly and silently, prepared to flee. Before he took two steps, he heard, "Potter." Harry hesitated, but only for a moment. He just couldn't face Snape this morning. Right now, he thought of the man as "Snape", rather than the "Severus" he'd made love with a few days ago. In his mind, they were two distinctly separate people. Prepared to pretend he hadn't heard the other man speaking to him, he continued toward the door.

"Harry, please. Stay."

The use of his first name and the magic word stopped Harry in his tracks, but he didn't turn around. He couldn't. If Snape saw everything there was to see on Harry's face and in his eyes, he'd use it to mercilessly ridicule Harry every opportunity he got. He felt rather than heard Snape come up behind him, and his shoulders tensed again, ready for he knew not quite what.

"Turn around?" Snape invited.

Pressing his lips together, Harry fiercely shook his head no. Not now. Not yet.

"All right," Snape said quietly, and he stepped around Harry until he was standing in front of him, facing him. Harry resolutely refused to look up into his face.

"I am not a nice man," Snape began, and Harry nearly snorted. If he'd been speaking to Snape, he would no doubt have had some sarcastic rejoinder to make to that remark. Something intelligent, like "No duh."

"You know this about me, I think," Snape continued, oblivious to the snappy banter bouncing around in Harry's head. "Like your foolish Gryffindor courage, it is part of who I am, and I don't think that I could change it if I wanted to. As I suspect you will forever and always rush into danger before thinking through the potential consequences."

Harry sighed. Great. Snape was going to stand here and list all of their faults. This could take a while. Maybe he should sit down.

"However, I find that my abrasive personality has endangered something that I have, in a very amazingly short space of time, come to cherish." Here Snape reached out with a finger and tipped Harry's head up so that he could see the boy's face. The hurt and torment there reinforced for him the need for this apology he was trying to make. "I was cruel to you yesterday. My comments were made only half in jest, but they hurt you badly. That is not acceptable behavior on my part any longer. Not that it ever was, but now . . . now when I have this . . . I don't know how to describe what we have here, Harry, but I do not want to lose it. I am sincerely sorry for hurting you yesterday, and I hope that you can forgive me."

Harry's eyes had begun to water, his hope that Severus could apologize and actually mean it so profound that he couldn't stop himself. "You mean it? You're sorry?"

"Sincerely. Don't forget the sincerely," Severus confirmed. "And I will try to do better."

Harry's wide smile was a sight to behold. Severus thought perhaps he'd have to revise his opinion of the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, because happy and relieved Harry was rivaling post-sex Hermione for the title. Severus' hands came up to cup Harry's cheeks, and he leaned down to kiss those smiling lips. He stopped before he got there, though, confusing Harry.

"Why'd you stop?" the boy complained.

"I didn't want you to think I was only kissing you so that you'd forgive me."

Harry laughed in his face at this, and Severus sucked the sound into his own lungs. "I forgive you, you berk. And I don't care why you kiss me so long as you do so." And he closed the distance between them himself and kissed Severus' thin lips.

Severus had meant for the kiss to be sweet and gentle, and it started out that way. It got out of hand quickly, however, when Harry pressed his body flush up against the taller man, planting his thigh between Severus' legs. Without conscious thought, Severus began to rub his rapidly-filling cock against that thigh.

"Bedroom?" Harry suggested into the kiss.

"Not sure I remember the way," Severus admitted, not taking his mouth from Harry's.

Harry laughed against his mouth, and Severus again ate it down. Harry's laughter was like a life-sustaining force, and Severus hungered for it. "I'll draw you a map," Harry whispered a promise and slid a hand up under Severus' shirt. One finger traced a circle around his left nipple, then made a straight line over to the right, circling that one as well. Severus' nipples hardened immediately to little pebbles, and he shivered at the touch.

"I think I remember now," he gasped into Harry's mouth.

Harry took this opportunity to stick his tongue down Severus' throat, thereby short-circuiting his brain again. Thankfully, Harry had the presence of mind to drag Severus toward the bedroom, never letting the man out of his embrace until he had him next to the bed, where he pushed him playfully down before leaping on top of him like an over-eager puppy.

Harry was licking up Severus' neck, from his shoulder to just under his ear, and Severus was wriggling with the feeling, close to a tickle, and trying to get his hands in Harry's trousers.

"Off, Harry," he growled.

Harry suddenly leapt off him. "Yes, sir!" he said with a smart salute, and with one smooth movement, he'd opened his trousers and let them fall to the floor, revealing that he wore nothing beneath but a jauntily waving erection. "Look, he's saluting, too!" Harry crowed with a boyish grin.

"Get over here, you cretin!" Severus commanded. He reached over with both hands and grabbed Harry's hips, bringing that tantalizing prick closer. Before closing his lips around it, Severus looked up at Harry and said, "And I call you 'cretin' in the most affectionate of ways, you realize."

Harry's laugh was cut short by Severus fellating him thoroughly. "God, Severus. That's . . ."

Severus removed his mouth when Harry didn't continue. "That's what?" he prompted.

"Perfectly adequate?" Harry teased with a mischievous grin.

"Perfectly ad– why you . . ." Severus grabbed Harry around the waist and dragged him down onto the bed beside him. Harry wriggled until he was on top of Severus, and he put both hands on Severus' shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. "Now I'm on top and you have to do what I say."

"Is that right?" Severus asked. "I shudder to think what you might ask of me."

Harry leaned down and kissed him, tiny little pecking kisses all over his mouth and cheeks and nose and eyes, until Severus himself laughed out loud at his playfulness. "My goodness," Harry said approvingly. "Who knew Severus Snape could laugh like that?"

"I'm likely to cry if you don't kiss me properly," Snape rejoined.

"Well, we don't want that, do we?" Harry said with feigned sympathy. "Guess I'll just have force myself to mphft," Harry's teasing was ended by Severus pulling his head down roughly and latching onto Harry's mouth with his own. Lost in the sensation, Harry fell forward until he was lying on top of Severus and just concentrated on the kissing. He could do this forever (as long as he kept his cock from rubbing up against anything), and they indulged in many, many minutes worth of mouth exploring mouth exploring tongue and teeth and lips.

Busy as they were, neither of them heard Hermione enter the room. Harry only became aware of her presence when he finally pulled himself off of Severus' addicting mouth and looked away to catch his breath. "Holy Jesus!" he gasped.

Severus looked over at what had caught Harry's attention and his breath caught in his throat. Hermione sat watching them, one leg thrown over the chair's arm, naked but for her bra. As she watched them through hooded eyes, she fucked herself with a large black dildo, the large plastic dong charmed to move in and out of her with a maddeningly slow rhythm. When she had the attention of both men on the bed, she tapped the dildo with her wand, causing it to purr to life. The vibration sent her immediately over the edge, and she squeezed her thighs around the protrusion as she rode it to ecstacy. When she was done, she pulled the dildo from her dripping hole and inserted it into her mouth, sucking it while watching Severus and Harry nearly come unglued.

"Jesus, Hermione," Harry muttered, "You're killing me here."

"Join us?" Severus invited.

"Mmmm. Not yet," Hermione said languidly. "I want to watch you two together for a while. Harry, would you like Severus to fuck you?"

Harry looked at Severus, whose dark eyes were looking back at him with a hunger that nearly made him afraid. "I'd like that very much," he said, ducking his head to kiss the older man again. "But you're wearing too many clothes."

With a muttered spell, Severus took care of that minor problem. Harry reached up to remove his shirt, but Severus stopped him. "Unbutton it, but leave it on."

With an amused glint in his eyes, Harry acquiesced, then lay back on the bed, arms and legs spread in an open invitation for Severus to have his way with him. Severus fell to with alacrity. Minutes later, with the assistance of another muttered spell, Harry was stretched and lubed and moaning with readiness. He was dimly aware of Hermione hovering near the bed as Severus slid his incredible thick cock home.

"Oh God," he moaned. "You are . . . so big . . . you fill me . . . so perfectly."

Severus settled his full weight on Harry and just lay there, enjoying the tight heat enveloping him.

"Severus?" Harry asked.

"Mmmmm?" Severus queried with a dreamy smile.

"If you don't move, I'm going to hex you into next week."

Severus chuckled, then heaved a dramatic sigh. "The demands I have to put up with." He hoisted himself back up off his comfy body pillow and thrust experimentally into Harry's arse. "Like that?"

"Yes! Precisely like that, except if you could just aim . . ." Severus shifted while Harry was making his request and thrust in again. "Oh yes! Right there! Again!"

Severus pulled out slowly, then just as slowly slid back in, grazing Harry's prostate on both journeys. "Jesus!" Harry groaned, trying to buck his hips up and take in more of Severus' generous offering.

They'd just established a pleasing rhythm, one certain to lead to an expected and satisfying conclusion, when Severus gasped and stilled deep inside Harry.

"What?" Harry asked. "Why'd you stop? I was so close!"

Severus tried to explain, but his mouth didn't seem to be working, and Harry was suddenly worried that the older man was suffering a stroke, or maybe a heart attack. "Severus! Are you all right?"

Severus' eyes, which were looking down at Harry, suddenly rolled back up in his head, and Harry yelped, "Severus! What's wrong?"

Hermione's smiling face appeared over Severus' shoulder, spooking Harry. "Nothing's wrong with him, Harry. He just got Black Beauty shoved up his arse is all."

Harry fell back against the pillow in relief. Now that he knew, he could hear the dildo's low humming, and if he concentrated on his lower body, he thought he could feel the vibration shooting through Severus' arse, into the older man's cock, and then into Harry's arsehole.

"Oh God!" Harry moaned. He was still a little worried about Severus though, as the man's eyes hadn't returned to their rightful place and he still hadn't said anything. "Severus?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?"

Severus' black irises snapped back into place, and he looked down at Harry as though just realizing he was there. "Holy shite," he said.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, Hermione has that effect on me, too."

"All right, Severus?" Hermione asked solicitously.

"Better than all right," he assured her.

"I'm just going to spell it to move. Tell me when I've got the right spot." Hermione disappeared again, and Harry waited beneath Severus until the other man gasped, "There!"

"Beautiful," Hermione whispered.

"I wanna see!" Harry said petulantly.

"Harry, meet magic. Magic, Harry," Hermione said, playfully sarcastic, as she cast a mirror charm at the ceiling over the bed. Harry nearly came at the sight of the black dildo darting in and out of Severus' arse. "Oh Severus," he moaned. "That's incredible."

"Can we get back to what we were doing now?" Severus asked, his pleasurable torment now doubled.

"Half a mo," Hermione requested. "I want to try something."

Both men groaned. Hermione was already tormenting them, and now she wanted to try something else?

"No, I think you'll like it. Well, I know _I_ will. Hopefully you will, too."

With much positioning and repositioning of limbs and bodies, Hermione arranged them the way she wanted them: herself flat on her back, feet pointed at the headboard; Harry on his hands and knees, his head between her legs and his groin positioned over her face; and Severus on his knees, draped over Harry's back, the black dildo still pistoning in and out of his arse, his cock buried inside Harry. Severus fucked down onto Harry, pushing Harry's cock into Hermione's mouth and Harry's mouth onto Hermione's pussy. Periodically, Hermione would release Harry's cock and stretch up to lick at Severus' dick where it joined with Harry. Harry came first, deep in Hermione's throat, followed closely by Severus, who pulled out and came all over Harry's back. Finally, once Harry had come down enough to attack her clit furiously with his tongue, Hermione entered the realm of the satisfied, coming all over Harry's face and nearly squeezing him to death between her legs.

They all collapsed to the bed, exhausted. Severus' strangled, "Would you get this thing out of me?" had Hermione moving long enough to end the spell on the dildo and pull it out carefully. Cleaning spells and more repositioning later, they lay together, catching their breath, nearly dozing, arms and legs wrapped around each other in odd combinations.

"I have only one question," Severus said some time later.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, barely opening her eyes.

"How did you get your tongue between us like that?"

"Oh, you mean when I was licking your cock while you were pounding it into Harry's arse?"

Both men blushed, which was the look Hermione was going for.

"Yes," Severus admitted.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"When you put it that way, no, I'm not sure. But I guess you'd better tell me now, or I'll never be able to sleep for curiosity."

Hermione stuck her tongue out like a frog after a fly. All eight inches of it. "Thpell," she explained. "Maketh my tongue longer."

"I see," Severus said, torn between being appalled and aroused at the memory of what she'd done with that tongue.

Hermione sucked her tongue back into her mouth as though it were a cooked noodle, causing a wave of revulsion to wash over Harry. "That's gross!" he complained sleepily.

"I have one that works on my clitoris, too. I'll show you that one later," she promised.

##########

Harry forcefully sighed and threw the letter he'd received onto the table.

"Something wrong, Potter?" Snape asked.

"Time to pay the piper."

With a questioning look at Harry, Hermione picked up the parchment. "Oh," she said after she looked at it.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Sort of surprised I haven't heard from him before now, actually. He's been decent about our deal."

Snape blew across his hot tea cup. "Am I allowed in on this, or is it a secret?"

"We've been invited to a Ministry function," Harry explained.

"What sort of a 'Ministry function'?"

Hermione looked down at the parchment still in her hand. "'A celebration of the heroes from the Battle of Hogwarts," she read. "It's an awards ceremony. There's a list here of everyone receiving an award."

"May I see?" Snape asked casually.

Hermione flicked her eyes to Harry, then to Snape, and she handed the list over.

Snape's eyes trailed down the list quickly. There were several names. At the top of the list was "Order of Merlin, First Class – Harry Potter." Below that: "Order of Merlin, Second Class, and then a list of names: Albus Dumbledore (posthumous), Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall. And finally: "Order of Merlin, Third Class", followed by a list of twenty of so names, including Neville Longbottom, Aberforth Dumbledore, Rubeus Hagrid, and many others, several of them with the indication that they were being awarded posthumously, all of the names familiar to Snape.

"Your name should be on that list," Harry growled. "Right next to mine."

"I am not in Azkaban, Potter," Snape said. "I do not need approval or recognition from the Ministry for my actions." He looked at both of them for a long moment. "The people who are important to me understand. That is what matters."

"Don't call me Potter," Harry growled, and he stood up and left the kitchen quickly.

Snape looked after him, concerned. "Will he become depressed again over this?"

"I don't think so. He's angry. Anger keeps the depression away."

"He should not be angry. It is not important enough to get angry about."

Harry strode back into the room with a quill and a bottle of ink. He flung himself down into his chair and began to scratch purposefully.

Hermione and Snape exchanged a worried look.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"Responding to Shacklebolt's invitation," Harry said tersely.

Another look passed between Hermione and Snape as Harry continued to scratch away.

"And what are you saying to him?" Hermione asked.

"I'm telling him exactly what I think of him and his stupid awards ceremony."

Hermione reached over and stilled Harry's hand with one of her own. She plucked the quill out of his hand and set it beside the parchment. "It's not worth the risk," she said, and her eyes flicked toward Snape.

Harry sighed in defeat and sat back. "You're right. I'll just let him know we're coming."

"'We'?" Hermione and Snape asked at the same time.

"Yes, 'we'," Harry confirmed. "If I have to go, you two are sure as hell going, too."

No one looked happy about the prospect. But then Hermione spoke and made them all forget. "I was going to show you two a spell, remember? Now might be a good time for that."

The race to the bedroom was won by Harry, who was smaller than Snape and more devious than Hermione. He hit the bed with a flying leap and waited for his lovers, who walked more sedately into the room, as though they weren't every bit as eager as he was.

After undressing and stretching out on the bed, they engaged in some preliminary activities before getting down to business.

Hermione sat cross-legged on the bed, facing both of them, her wand in one hand. "Watch." She touched her wand to her clitoris and said, "Engorgio." Before their excited and interested eyes, her clit grew . . . and grew . . . and grew . . . until it was the same length as her hand. Both men stared, somewhat appalled and a lot aroused, at the long pink protuberance. Hermione, ready with the lube, squirted a trail down the length of her unnatural new member and began to rub it in.

The sensation was exquisite, so intensely pleasurable that there was a tiny edge of pain to it. She stroked herself slowly, gently, knowing that it would take only seconds before she came. She held herself through the shuddering orgasm, then let go and toppled over onto the bed, panting.

"Jesus, Hermione," Harry said, coming closer to examine her. "Can I touch it?"

"Not yet," Hermione requested. "Let me calm down for a minute or two."

They lay there on the bed quietly, Harry examining her with his eyes only, eager to touch and explore. Snape picked up the lubricant and used it to stroke his own erection while he watched them both.

Finally, Hermione could stand to be touched, and she gave Harry the okay. "You'll need the lube," she told him. Having her clitoris inside her vagina kept it well-lubricated, but this magic-made extension had no such natural defense.

Harry grabbed up the lube and squirted a generous portion directly onto her clitoris. "It jumped," Harry said, looking up at her with the pleasure of discovery on his face, "just like my cock does!"

Hermione smiled at him and stroked his hair.

"Can I suck it?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "You can. Just realize that it won't take long for me to come. It feels like there's a million nerve endings in there, so I'm extremely sensitive. Just go slow."

Harry did. He banished the lubricant he'd just applied, then pulled her gently into his mouth, making sure he kept plenty of spit in there to help her slide. Her clitoris felt funny in his mouth – not hard and not bumpy or covered with ridges, like Severus' cock. It was more like sucking on a really long, really smooth, narrow limp penis. Harry had no trouble getting it into his throat, and Hermione gasped.

"Oh, that's good!" she whispered. "I've only ever touched it myself. I've never been able to put it into anything."

Harry's tongue danced around her stretched clitoris, and Hermione came again, bucking violently against his face. She whimpered when it was over, and Harry opened his mouth so she could extract herself.

"Wow, that's something," Harry said. "Come see, Severus," he said, wanting to share.

When Severus came closer, Harry kissed him and took over stroking his hard cock for a moment. While still doing that, Harry turned to Hermione. "Do you think you could make it hard? So you could fuck Severus with it?"

Severus groaned and drove his hardness into Harry's hand.

Hermione looked pensive. "I don't know. I've never tried it. It would be a simple enough spell, I think, but I wonder if I would still retain feeling in it."

"Only one way to find out, right?" Harry asked, looking at Severus, who was older and wiser and knew _everything_. "Any reason why we shouldn't?"

"Is the counter a simple finite incantatum?" he asked Hermione. When she nodded, he said, "Then it should be safe."

Hermione cast _erectus _on herself, and her soft clitoris went rigid instantly. She stroked it a couple of times. "Oh yeah," she said, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. "Still sensitive."

"Girls are so lucky," Harry griped. "You've come twice already, in like thirty seconds, and you're ready to go again!"

"Do you really want to compare female reproductive organs with male reproductive organs, Harry?" Hermione posed. "Is it you who has to suffer through four days a month when you can't have sex? Is it you that has to grow a baby inside you and have it come out a tiny orifice? Hmmm?"

"You win," Harry conceded. "C'mere, Severus. I'll prepare you."

"Shouldn't take much," Severus noted. "It's diameter is quite small."

Harry hoisted Severus up on his hands and knees, spread his buttocks, and attacked him with his tongue. He had Severus squirming beneath him in record time, and Hermione knelt up behind the older man, her clitoris dangling between her legs.

Harry took one look at that and keeled over onto the bed, laughing hysterically. Hermione and Severus gave him identical disdainful looks and carried on with their business. Hermione lubed herself up gently, not wanting to get too close to the edge yet, then positioned herself at Severus' entrance. She slid into him as easily as a hot knife cuts through butter. Severus squeezed his anal muscles. She was so small back there he could hardly feel her. The pressure he created was enough though, and she thrust into him four times before coming again.

That was hardly satisfying for Severus, and he growled at Harry, "Potter! Get over here and finish what she started."

Harry gladly complied, taking Hermione's place. He'd thought Severus might need some additional stretching, but when he tried, Severus growled at him again. "Just do it!"

So Harry did. Slowly and firmly, he pushed himself into his lover's tight heat and took a moment to just enjoy. Hermione was hotter and wetter, but Severus was definitely tighter, and he loved being inside both of them equally. Unable to wait any longer, he started moving his hips, pulling back, then snapping them forward. He reached around to grab Severus' cock, and he rode his older lover until they both came explosively.

As they lay there panting, Hermione looked a bit disappointed. "What's wrong, love?" Harry asked.

"I was looking forward to the pounding part. I wanted to pound into you, Severus, the way you two do into each other. But I couldn't last. I was still too sensitive."

"You have a dildo, do you not? You can strap that on, so to speak, and pound into Potter with that. You won't have the same sensation, but if it's pounding you're looking for, you can pound away to your heart's content."

Harry looked a bit frightened by that. "Why me?" he squeaked.

"My arse has had its fill, for a while anyway," Severus said.

Hermione looked so hopeful that Harry couldn't deny her. Severus helped her to attach the dildo to herself, then they both prepared Harry for entry. When Hermione slid the synthetic penis into Harry's arse, she complained, "I wish I could feel it, like you do." She moved the dildo experimentally, back and forth, causing Harry to groan pleasurably.

"Good shot, Hermione. You got it on the first try."

And Hermione set out to satisfy her urge to pound into something. Harry wasn't sure if he was a benefactor or a victim, and when he finally came and she pulled out, he couldn't argue that he'd been thoroughly fucked. In fact, though he didn't say anything to either of his lovers, he thought he just might need a pain potion later.

They lay quietly together on the bed, and after Hermione dropped off into sleep, Severus whispered to Harry, "I have a potion in my lab. Do you want it now?"

Harry had expected Severus would sneer at him for needing it, which is why he hadn't said anything, but there was nothing in the older man's tone but concern and a wish to help. He smiled warmly at Severus. "Not now," he said, too warm and comfortable where he was to even think about moving. "But later would be great. Thank you."

And suddenly the fact that he was required to make an appearance at that stupid Ministry function didn't seem quite so bad. He'd saved Severus, and that was a small price to pay. He intertwined his fingers through Severus' and pulled his hand close to his heart, feeling warm on the inside as well out.

##########

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably with the cuffs of his shirt. They stood in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, surveying the large crowd which was oblivious still to the fact that their hero had arrived. "I'd rather be back home, eviscerating flobberworms in your lab, than here right now."

"Relax, Potter," Snape said, then, at a glare from Harry, amended himself. "Harry. It's three hours out of your life. You will survive."

"Just stay close," Harry instructed, both because he did not want to be here and needed the moral support and because a large part of him was concerned that Snape was in danger from his many detractors. Taking Hermione by one arm and Snape by another, Harry took a deep, fortifying breath and towed his companions out onto the floor and into the limelight.

As soon as they emerged from the shadows, people turned toward them, and a ripple ran through the crowd announcing their arrival. And it wasn't long after that before Minister Shacklebolt was standing squarely in their path. "Harry," he said warmly, as though they were still friends. "How good to see you. Hermione," he said, with a nod of acknowledgment to her. And then, "Severus."

Snape nodded in greeting.

"Kingsley," Harry said, his voice cold and uninviting. "Perhaps you could point out where we'll be seated this evening."

"Of course. You're at the head table, of course. Our First Class Order of Merlin recipient can't be tucked away at the back of the room now, can he?"

Harry bit his tongue to keep to himself the thoughts he wanted to share with Shacklebolt. It helped when he felt Snape's hand give his arm an encouraging squeeze.

"Well, if you'll excuse us then, we'll go off to our seats. Don't worry, Minister, I'll be sure to keep myself front and center, where everyone can see me on display. And so we're clear, I won't be giving any acceptance speech. I think you'd not like what I have to say."

"That's fine, Harry," Shacklebolt said, keeping a large smile on his face for the benefit of those who were watching their interaction with attention. "Not a problem at all."

"Great. We'll see ourselves to our seats."

"We'll talk later."

Taking up his escorts again, Harry led them through the crowd toward the front of the room. Sure enough, at a table set facing the rest of the room, they found place cards bearing their names in the middle of the table set for a dozen dignitaries. No one was yet sitting there.

Harry studied the seating order, which had him sitting in the middle of the table between the Minister and Hermione. "Fuck that," Harry muttered, and with a twitch of his wand, all of the place cards containing the names of non-Ministry officials redistributed themselves. "Let's sit before the others get here," he urged.

They made their way to the other end of the table, where Harry's name tag now sat at the very end, with Hermione sitting next to him, then Severus. Snape swapped his and Harry's, so that he wouldn't have to suffer the company of any Ministry fool sitting to his left. With a quick glance at Hermione, Harry swapped her card with his, putting him between the two of them and Hermione at the mercy of whoever was next in line.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys," she muttered, pulling out her chair to sit down. She glanced at the card beside her and was thrilled to see she'd be spending the evening next to Minerva McGonagall. All that fuss to avoid sitting next to a stranger, and it was Minerva! Hermione quickly checked to see who Minerva had decided to bring as a guest and was surprised to see Filius Flitwick ~ Guest of Minerva McGonagall~ printed on the card.

Gallant now after that childish display, Severus put his hand on Hermione's chair and assisted her in with it. Both men settled in, and the three of them sat and watched the gathered guests, many of whom had their eyes on the people seated at the head table.

"I suppose Ron will be here," Harry mentioned.

"He is now seated by Mrs. Shacklebolt," Severus offered. He'd glanced down the row of cards while seating Hermione and now knew where everyone was fated to endure this spectacle.

"Good place for him. Is he bringing a date?"

"You will not believe me when I tell you," Severus said, sipping water from a glass which had appeared in front of him the moment he sat down.

Harry craned his neck to look down the row, trying to read the card for himself, but the angle was wrong. "Who?" he demanded.

Severus took another sip, prolonging the suspense. "Pansy Parkinson."

"No way!" Harry blurted. Ron and a _Slytherin?_ _Ron_ dating a _Slytherin?_ The world really had gone mad. "Wonder how that happened?"

"You two gossip worse than two old women," Hermione told them.

"We're not gossiping," Harry defended.

"We are merely . . . talking about the intimate relationships of mutual acquaintances," Severus supplied haughtily.

"Gossiping, like I said," Hermione said dismissively. "Oh look – there they are."

Sure enough, Ron Weasley moved through a throng of people and into their line of sight, Pansy Parkinson, looking stunning in a blue sparkling evening gown cut in the front almost down to her navel, clinging to his arm.

"Well, I certainly see what he sees in her," Harry offered, staring at the cleavage on display.

"Her assets are rather well-defined this evening, are they not?" Severus noted.

"I haven't seen her backside yet, so I can't give you an opinion regarding her _assets_," Harry snickered.

Severus smiled into his glass, and Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, you two. I can dress you up, but I can't take you anywhere."

"Hermione, did I tell you how stunning you look this evening?" Harry asked, shining with sincerity.

"Shut up, you git," she said, though she smiled.

Harry turned back to Severus. "I hope she's got some kind of sticking charm on that dress. Otherwise, if she dances later, she's going to be flashing her tits for all of us to see."

Severus stared at the young woman in question. "One can only hope."

Harry, who had just begun to take a drink from his own glass, suddenly sprayed what he'd taken into his mouth over the table in front of him.

"You two behave!" Hermione scolded, wiping briefly at the mess with her napkin.

"Will you punish us later when we get home, Mummy?" Harry asked, waggling his eyebrows comically.

"I'll take you over my knee right now if you keep this up," Hermione threatened.

"Promise?" Harry asked.

"Minerva!" Hermione said brightly, glad of the interruption. "And Professor Flitwick. How very nice to see you."

"You must call me Filius, my dear. You are no longer my student."

The new arrivals exchanged greetings with Harry and Severus and chatted with Hermione as they settled themselves in. Harry leaned against Severus and said quietly, "You're dancing with me later."

"I hardly think that is wise."

"When have you ever known me to act in a wise way?"

"Point. I, however, know better than to cause such a scene."

"What difference would it make? I don't care who knows I'm with you. Are you ashamed of me?"

"You know better. I would be a fool not to be proud of both of you and disgustingly full of myself to have you both on my arms." Severus' arm went around Harry's back and rested lightly on his shoulder, pulling the boy in for a brief side hug. Harry rested his head on Severus' shoulder and sighed. "I wish we could leave now."

"I share that sentiment."

"You're still dancing with me. No arguing."

Severus dropped a brief kiss on the crown of Harry's head. "Who am I to argue with the Chosen One?" And he looked up just in time to lock eyes with Ronald Weasley.

##########

The speeches were interminable, and Harry tuned them out. He fiddled with his fork. He scratched at his knee, which caused Hermione to take his left hand into hers and hold it gently but firmly. He tried to inch his wand out of his robe, but Severus captured his right hand and held it as well. He began to bounce both heels soundlessly against the floor, first the left, then the right. Simultaneously, Hermione and Severus placed their joined hands on his knees, stilling him. Hermione added a sideways glare and a, "Be still!" for good measure.

Harry sighed quietly, pulled his hands free a bit petulantly, and sat back in his chair.

Finally, _finally_, Shacklebolt stopped talking, there was a thunder of applause which startled Harry out of his self-imposed coma, and everyone was looking at him. Severus nudged him in the side, indicating that Harry should get up. Cluelessly, Harry stood up and looked down at Severus, who gestured with his chin toward Shacklebolt.

Oh. Must be time for him to get his blasted award. Harry made the short trip to where Shacklebolt waited for him. The Minister extended his hand to Harry, who looked at it a moment before taking it in his own and shaking the Minister's hand heartily. Kingsley used this grip to pull Harry closer so that he could speak directly into the boy's ear.

"Harry, do you still want to be an auror?"

Harry pulled away enough to look up into the taller man's face, surprised. "No," he said firmly.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I'm releasing you from your obligation to me. I wanted you here, for this, and I didn't know any other way to get you here. But this is it. You're free."

"And Severus?"

"I stand by my word, Harry."

Harry looked up at him again. "Thank you, Kingsley."

"Live your life, Harry. Don't let anyone tell you how to do so."

Harry nodded. Kingsley placed an ornate velvet ribbon around Harry's neck. Harry looked down at the large gold medallion resting against his chest, and picked it up so he could read, "Recipient ~ Order of Merlin ~ First Class."

Kingsley shook his hand again, and applause accompanied Harry back to his seat.

When he arrived there, he stood at his place and said, "Stand up, Severus."

"Potter, what are you – " Severus asked, aware that everyone was staring at them.

"Stand up."

Reluctantly, to get this over with, Severus did so. Harry removed the award from around his neck and placed it around Severus'. He kissed Severus' right cheek, then his left, and then he sat down. He noted the applause had stopped and everyone was staring at him again, but he couldn't have cared less.

Self-consciously, Severus sat, and Kingsley continued with the ceremony, presenting the second-class recipients with their awards. Aberforth accepted the award for his brother and gave a heartfelt speech of gratitude to everyone present. Hermione and Minerva both chose not to speak, but Ronald Weasley spoke for several minutes, thanking his family and friends and pointedly not mentioning Harry or Hermione.

The presentation of the third class awards went fairly quickly as recipients were brought forward in groups, and none of them was given an opportunity to speak. When finally all of the awards had been handed out, Kingsley once again spoke. "And that concludes the award presentation of this evening. In just a moment, the music will begin. Enjoy your evening."

Severus had been staring down at the medal on his chest, but now he looked up at his young lovers. "Shall we go?" he asked as people began to mill about and tables began to move out of the way in preparation for the dancing to come later.

"Not until I get my dance," Harry said firmly. He had a point to make to everyone assembled here. He'd made half of it, giving his medal to Severus in front of them all. But he wasn't done yet.

##########

Snape was able to put off the inevitable by beginning a conversation with Minerva which he assured Harry he needed to finish. So Harry pulled Hermione out to the floor and danced with her.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear as he held her close and swayed to the music.

"I love you, too," she assured him, snuggling into his neck. "Ron's watching us."

Harry sighed. "I'm gonna try to talk to him tonight. I don't like this tension. I know it'll never be like it was before, but I don't like the feeling that we can't be in the same room with each other without it being awkward."

"You want me to go with you?"

"Nah. It'll be better if it's just me and him. Mano y mano, you know?"

Hermione smiled affectionately at him and settled herself back on Harry's shoulder.

##########

Harry stood at the bar, waiting for his turn, when he turned to find Ron beside him.

"Ron," he said politely.

Ron nodded in return. "Harry."

Harry stared down at the bar. "How've you been?"

"Great. Great."

Ron's eyes scanned the room, looking anywhere but at his former friend.

"How's auror training?"

"It's good. Hard, but good." He paused for a moment before asking, "You joining?"

"No," Harry said. "I've had enough of that sort of thing."

The silence stretched on long enough that Harry began to wish the bartender would hurry up.

"How's Hermione?" Ron asked.

"She's really good. You should say hello." Harry wondered if he should say something about Pansy Parkinson, but he didn't know how serious the two of them were and didn't want to offend Ron in any way. "How's the family?" he asked instead.

"Good. Same old, same old, you know?"

"Great." This was going down as one of the most awkward conversations in the history of history.

Finally, the bartender turned to Harry. "What can I get you, sir?"

"Two firewhiskeys and a butterbeer, please."

"So . . ." Ron said, stretching the word out. "Snape's taken my place, has he?" Up until now, Ron's voice and demeanor had been – not exactly friendly, but not cold either. Now he sounded angry.

"I wouldn't say that," Harry said. "Severus is like me. He likes both men and women. It's different with him."

"So he lets you fuck him, then?" Ron asked, the anger tinged with disgust now.

"Yes. And I let him fuck me. And we both fuck Hermione," Harry said, keeping a tight reign on his own anger and keeping his voice low, considering the topic of their discussion. "Sometimes at the same time. And sometimes, when things get really crazy, she even fucks us."

If Harry had been looking at Ron, he would have seen his friend's face blazing red. He hadn't expected his offhand comment to be responded to so honestly.

Harry's anger left him as suddenly as it had come. "I'm sorry that things worked out as they did, Ron. You were my first friend, and I miss you. I'd give almost anything to have that back. The only things I wouldn't give are Hermione and Severus. And I suspect that they're the only things you'd need me to give up to get our friendship back." Harry's drinks finally arrived, and he tucked the butterbeer under his arm and picked up the two glasses. He turned to face Ron and looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. "I wish you only the best. Say hello to your family for me."

And he turned and walked away, perilously close to tears. He returned to the table under the watchful eye of Severus Snape, who'd witnessed his interaction with Ron Weasley from his seat at the table. When Harry set his drink before him, Severus took one sip, then stood up.

"Come, Potter. It's time for that dance. After that, I am going home. You may accompany me, or you may stay – that is entirely up to you." And he extended a hand to his young lover.

Harry put his hand in Severus' and let himself be led to the middle of the dance floor. If Potter wanted to make a point, they might as well make it in the middle of everything. He pulled the boy into his arms and held the messy head against his chest with a large hand. "Are you all right? I saw you speaking with Mr. Weasley."

"I'm okay," Harry said, but he didn't sound okay. "He was all right, really. He just never understood how Hermione could want both of us. Or how I could want both of them. Ron doesn't have a lot of layers. What you see is pretty much what you get."

"But you miss him," Severus noted. His eyes scanned their fellow dancers, most of whom were unabashedly watching them right back.

Harry sighed. "I do. He was my best friend, and I loved him. I wish that . . . well, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't give up what I have now for anything. I told him that. I hope he's happy, because I know I am."

"Have we made enough of a spectacle of ourselves?" Severus asked, leading Harry expertly around the dance floor and back toward where Hermione was standing and talking to Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott.

"Huh?" Harry opened his eyes. He'd closed them when Severus pulled him into his embrace, trying to keep the tears at bay, but he opened them now and peered around at the others. They certainly were the center of attention. He pulled away enough to look up at Severus. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to use you. I just wanted everyone to know that I'm with you and that I'm not ashamed for everyone to know it. I love you, Severus."

Harry hadn't said that to Severus before. He told Hermione frequently, and he'd known for a while that he loved Severus as well, but he hadn't had enough courage to say so.

Severus' shock showed in his eyes, and he could do nothing but stare down at Harry for the longest time. Finally, he leaned down and kissed Harry tenderly on the lips, which caused a ripple in the watching crowd. "Let's go home."

##########

Another month passed before boredom began to set in, and the trio began to talk about getting on with their lives now that the war was over and they had choices. Snape was the first to return to some type of gainful employment. With a simple advertisement in the _Daily Prophet_ and a makeshift laboratory in the basement of Minerva's cottage, Severus established a potions business that took off immediately based on his reputation. He spent his days happily in his basement haven brewing quietly, and his nights in the communal bed having glorious, sweaty sex with his two young lovers. His life had never been more peaceful or fulfilling on so many levels.

Hermione followed his example several weeks later by accepting an offer which had been transmitted to her through Minerva from a research institute. The Brookings Institute was a wizarding think tank which collected the best minds in several areas of life and applied that intelligence and intellect toward solving societal problems. Hermione's first assignment was werewolf rights, and she dove into the research with typical Hermioniacal zeal.

Only Harry seemed content to spend his days hanging about the cottage. He cleaned the cottage, he swam in the pool, he made their meals, he read, he visited Severus in the downstairs lab and helped when the still stern taskmaster allowed him to. Harry had no idea what he wanted to do with his life now that the mission he'd been pursuing since he was in nappies had been completed. He'd thought at one point he wanted to be an auror, but even the thought of spending the rest of his life the way he'd spent the first seventeen years made him ill. So he lounged about and he waited for the right thing to come along, confident that it would. He didn't need to work – his vault at Gringotts would support the three of them comfortably well beyond the foreseeable future.

Harry's life was brightened considerably when he received an owl from Andromeda Tonks. She'd reconsidered her position on keeping the Lupins' child away from Harry. The positive publicity that Snape had received following the revelation of all of the facts had gone a long way toward softening her position. Signs that little Teddy might some day share at least a portion of his father's affliction had made her realize that Severus Snape and his wolfsbane potion might be a lifesaver for her grandson. And even if it wasn't, she arrived at the realization that she needed all the help she could get. So she'd owled Harry Potter and invited him to have a place in the boy's life. Thrilled, Harry had agreed immediately and had visited with him three times. He'd made an immediate connection with the boy and discovered that he really liked children. He'd never had the opportunity to spend any time with babies and had operated under the assumption that they were mostly uninteresting. But at five months, little Teddy was fascinating to Harry, and he loved spending time with the boy.

But even that came with a price.

"Are you feeling all right?" Hermione asked when she entered the kitchen after a day of work. "You look wiped out."

"I'm good," Harry assured her as he stirred the stew he had put together for dinner. "A little tired." He kissed her cheek. "How was your day?"

"It was good. More of the same. Is Severus coming up for dinner?"

"Yes. I was just down there. He said he'd be another five minutes."

Hermione sat at the table and Harry poured a glass of wine and placed it before her. She smiled tiredly. "Thank you. How was your visit with Teddy today?"

Harry smiled. "It was great. He's so great, Hermione. I wish you could see him. I never realized just how much little babies can do. I always thought they just sort of lay there until they got big enough to walk around, but he smiles and he laughs when you play peek-a-boo with him. He changes his hair color based on the mood he's in. It's pink when he's happy and green when he's angry and blue when he's tired. It's fascinating."

Severus entered the kitchen from his basement den. He and Hermione exchanged kisses and "how was your days." Severus joined Harry at the cooker and looked down at tonight's dinner. "Smells good." He looked over at the boy. "Are you feeling all right? You look pale."

"I'm fine," Harry repeated. Giving the stew a final stir, he lifted the pot and brought it to the table. They had no sooner sat down when a tawny owl fluttered through the window and dropped a rolled parchment in Harry's bowl. Thankfully, it was empty.

Harry picked it up and began to unroll it while Hermione fed the owl a large chuck of bread before shooing it off the table and out the window.

"It's from Andromeda," Harry announced. "Oh no. Teddy has wizard's pox. Is that dangerous?" he asked, turning to Severus.

"No, it's very common. Almost all young wizards suffer through it. There's a potion which will assist him with the symptoms. You should take some to her tonight. It can be quite uncomfortable."

"Poor little bloke," Harry said sympathetically. "I'm sure Andromeda would appreciate that."

"Did you have the wizard's pox, Severus?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. I was somewhat older than young Teddy. I remember being ill with it. I must have been five or so." A sudden thought struck him. "Potter, have you ever been exposed to wizard's pox?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. "I don't think so. Unless there was an outbreak at Hogwarts, I wouldn't have come in contact with anyone who had it."

"Most wizards contract the disease well before they are of age to attend Hogwarts." Severus got this feet. "You are at risk. You saw the boy today. He would have been contagious in the hours before the rash appeared." He put a hand to Harry's forehead. "You feel warm."

Harry batted his hand away, annoyed. "I'm fine," he repeated firmly. Then he coughed.

"Potter, you are to go to bed immediately. You have been exposed to a highly contagious disease that you have no ability to resist. You _will_ become sick. Likely, very sick, as the older one is when the disease is contracted, the more serious the symptoms."

Harry looked worriedly at Hermione. "What about Hermione? She's got Muggle parents. She's never been exposed either. I kissed her earlier."

"It is called _wizard's_ pox for a reason, Harry," Severus explained. "Witches are immune."

"Well, can't you give me something to make it go away?" Harry asked.

"No. There is no cure. The disease must run it's course."

Harry sighed. "I feel fine, though. Well, I have a bit of a headache, but that's it." And he coughed again.

"That is one of the symptoms," Severus informed him, "as is the cough. Bed, young man."

"Can't I finish my dinner?" Harry groused.

##########

Harry was tucked into bed by an insistent Severus directly after finishing one bowl of stew. Harry was feeling a little tired, but he really didn't feel sick. Severus was not swayed by this argument.

"I think by tomorrow you will be," he said.

And Severus was, as usual, right.

Harry awoke the next morning feeling hot and sweaty and completely out of sorts. Hermione lay a cool cloth across his forehead. "You're sick, love," she said quietly.

"Don't feel good," Harry agreed. "Itchy." And he was – little spots of burning, itching irritation had sprung up all over his body, and he couldn't help but scratch at them.

"Stop," Hermione instructed, stilling his hands by placing her own over his. "Severus has gone to get you something for the itching. Just hold on."

Harry tried to lie still, but the itching was driving him to distraction. Hermione held both his hands, so Harry wriggled against the sheet, using the friction to rub against his back, providing some relief from the itching there.

Severus arrived and replaced Hermione on the bed beside him. With a flick of his wand, Harry was naked.

"Hey!" Harry protested at the sudden chill. "Unless you plan to ravish me, could you put those back on?"

"The ravishing will have to wait for another day." And he began to spread cool, relieving salve over Harry's chest.

"Oh, that feels good!" Harry moaned in appreciation. He lay quietly for a time while Severus worked over his hot skin. "Did you get some of this stuff to Andromeda? Teddy's probably being tortured."

"Hermione owled it to her last night."

"He'll be okay, right?"

"He'll be fine," Severus assured him, now working on Harry's arms. "He will likely recover much sooner than you will."

"'Cause I'm old," Harry guessed.

"Yes, you are so very old. Lie still," he chided when Harry began to squirm when Severus began to work on his legs. "And stop getting aroused. It will do you no good."

"I thought it would be easier to spread that stuff on my cock if it was hard," Harry reasoned.

"Hmmm. Perhaps that is sound logic after all." And he wrapped his fist around Harry's erection, which was, indeed, sporting several red bumps. Harry grunted his approval, and Severus sped up his stroking. If the boy felt well enough for this, there was no reason not to. It would likely be at least a couple of days before he felt up to it again. Severus handed the jar of salve to Hermione and indicated that she should finish with Harry's legs while Severus finished him off. When the boy arched his back up off the bed and came, shooting semen up into the air, Severus held on until Harry was finished, cleaned the come from his hand and Harry's chest and the bedding and grasped Harry's hip to turn him onto his stomach.

"Hmmmmm," Harry hummed happily. He still didn't feel good, but at least now he felt sated while he didn't feel good.

When Severus finished with Harry's back, he rolled back over. "Thanks," he said, tired now and willing to sleep.

Severus leaned closer to kiss Harry's forehead. It felt warm beneath his lips. "Sleep now, Harry. I will be back to check on you in a bit."

##########

When Severus returned to Harry two hours later, the boy was burning up. Severus expected this, and he fetched the fever reducing potion he had brewed last night.

##########

Hermione returned from work in the early afternoon. She found Severus in the armchair in the bedroom.

"How is he?"

"The same. The fever seems to be climbing. The fever reducer works for only a short time."

"Do you think we need to call in a healer?"

"Let's give it one more day. If he's still the same tomorrow, I'll get a message to Minerva and ask her to send Poppy."

Hermione noticed the stack of journals on the floor beside the chair. "Have you been in here all day?"

"I was catching up on some reading. I could do that here just as well as anywhere else."

Hermione smiled fondly at him. "I brought dinner home with me. Shall we eat in here?"

"That would be fine."

Hermione crossed to the bed and leaned over to kiss Harry on the forehead. "Oh, he _is_ warm."

"Hermione?" Harry croaked from the bed. "'Zat you?"

"Yes, love, it's me. How are you feeling?"

Harry made to sit up, but couldn't quite manage it. "Gotta get up. Charms. Got to go to Charms."

"No, Harry," Hermione soothed, pushing him back down to the bed. "Charms was canceled today."

"Oh, good," Harry said, collapsing. "'Cause I didn't do my homework."

"Imagine my surprise," Severus commented drily from the chair.

"Wanna go to the lake then?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned to Severus. "Is this normal?"

"It's the fever."

Hermione turned back to Harry, who seemed now to have fallen back into an agitated sleep. She smoothed his hair back from his sweaty forehead. His forehead burned under her palm. "I don't think we should wait until tomorrow for Madam Pomfrey."

Severus arose quickly and joined her by the bed, casting a temperature spell as he moved. "It's getting worse," he said, obviously worried. "I will send the message now."

##########

Poppy arrived an hour later and examined Harry in a matter of moments. "Well, it's certainly wizard's pox, as you know. It's so much easier when they get it as children! I assume you've been giving him fever reducer?"

"Of course," Severus noted. "The strongest I can brew. It seems not to be working. In fact, his fever has risen over the course of the day."

"I think he's topped out," Poppy assured him. "The fever will last another day or so. It's dangerously high, so he needs to be monitored constantly. I shall put a charm on him to alert you if it rises any more. In that event, you should contact me directly. I don't think it will, but it's best to be sure. He will likely feel quite unwell for two days after the fever breaks. The spots will begin to disappear a day or so after that. You'll need to keep him from scratching at them, of course, until they do. There's really nothing more I can do for him now."

"Thank you for coming, Poppy," Severus said. "I'll see you out."

While Severus escorted Poppy out through the floor and re-warded it closed to visitors, Hermione brought their simple supper into the bedroom and arranged it on the table.

Hermione was unable to keep her worried gaze from the lump that was Harry on the bed.

"He'll be fine, Hermione," Severus tried to assure her.

She smiled thinly in response. "Are there any long-term effects of this illness? I know that some believe that Muggle chicken pox in adult males can lead to infertility. Is that true with wizard's pox?"

"A high fever for any reason can lead to a temporary decrease in sperm production. That almost always resolves itself within a short period of time," Severus explained. He stared at her for a moment. "Is that something that concerns you?"

"That Harry wouldn't be able to father children?" She was quiet for a moment, wondering if now was the best time to be discussing this. It was just an abstract discussion though, right? "I've always wanted children, some day."

"And do you still? You would want to bring children into this . . . lifestyle?"

"Lifestyle? What, you mean because there are two of you and one of me?" Severus nodded. Hermione shrugged. "I've never been bothered by alternate lifestyles. My parents know gay couples who have children. It's certainly not the norm, but I think that as long as children have parents that want them and love them, it really doesn't matter what makes up the familial unit. Do _you _think it matters?"

"I know how cruel children can be to each other. My fear would be that other children would use an abnormal home situation as fodder for ridicule."

Hermione looked at Severus now. "Do _you_ want children, Severus?"

Severus had to look away from her for a moment, but his dark eyes returned to hers momentarily. "I have never thought that I would be in a position to consider such a thing. I'm not overly fond of _teenaged _children, but I suppose one has time to grow to like the little monsters when they are young."

"That doesn't really answer the question," she pressed.

Severus took a moment to think about his answer. "I find that I rather like the thought of having a child," he confessed, terribly surprised by that.

"Even if you couldn't know for sure if the child were yours or Harry's?"

"You are aware that there are spells to determine paternity?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "But I guess I would expect you to feel the same way about the child no matter who was technically, biologically the father. Could you do that?"

Severus stared into her eyes, then shifted his gaze to the bed. "I have surprised myself with the ability to open my heart and let people inside. I did not know I was capable of that prior to the two of you coming into my life like you did. So, yes, I think I could love a child that was not biologically mine and think of him or her as my own."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. Uncomfortable with all of the sharing of feelings going on in this room, Severus refocused his attention on his curry. "I suppose Potter would support the idea of having children."

"You know Harry. He loves little Teddy. I think he'd love the idea of having his own children to love. You'll have noticed how he latches onto anything resembling family. His own childhood was so messed up, he craves that feeling now."

Severus was quiet again for a time. "Do you think that having a childhood that was less than ideal is a hindrance to being an effective parent?"

Hermione knew what he was asking. He hadn't spoken a lot about his childhood, but she knew his father had been abusive and full of hate towards Severus' mother and Severus and the magic they shared. For that reason, she chose her words carefully. "There is plenty of evidence to suggest that childhood abuse is cyclical, that children who were abused grow up to be abusive parents themselves. But I think all it takes to break that cycle is someone who recognizes it for what it is and makes a determined decision that it will not continue. You know from practical experience and because you are incredibly intelligent what abusing children leads to. And I know you have an iron will, and if you decided that you were not going to treat your children the way you were treated, then I have faith that you would not. Throw in genuine love for your own offspring and a sincere desire to give them the best you can, and you have a recipe for a strong, healthy parent-child bond."

"You believe that?" Severus asked, hoping she was right.

"I do. So . . . should we talk with Harry about this as soon as he's well?"

Severus knew what she was asking him. Did he want to take this theoretical discussion about the three of them having children into the realm of reality? Was he ready for that now? Would he ever really be ready for that? Despite her reassuring words, he did still have concerns about his ability to be a father. He was not a nice man. His first instinct was never toward sympathy or empathy or kindness. He could love, he knew that now, but would his harsh, stern demeanor scare away small children? Could he change? Did he want to change?

He didn't know the answer to any of these questions, but he found he really, really wanted to find out. He nodded. "I think perhaps we should."

##########

Severus slept in the armchair that night. He'd tried sleeping in the bed, but Harry's sleep was fitful and agitated in his feverish state. Somehow, Hermione managed to sleep through the night.

When Harry woke, Severus fed him another dose of fever reducer, relieved that the fever hadn't climbed any higher, performed a freshening spell on him after a sweaty night, and dressed him in clean pajamas. Harry fell asleep after taking the potion and didn't awake again.

Hermione arose to shower and fix breakfast, and when she brought it into the bedroom, Severus was in the shower and Harry was awake.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Harry coughed violently for a moment before being able to answer. "Blah," he said, sticking his tongue out.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Drink sounded wonderful to Harry. His throat was dry, his teeth felt like they were all wearing Mrs. Weasley-knitted jumpers, and his tongue felt like it was twice its normal size. "Mmm, please," he murmured.

Hermione poured a cup of tea from the pot she'd brought in and sat on the bed beside Harry, helping him to rise enough to drink without spilling the tea all over himself. Harry tried to take the cup, but his hands were shaking, and his arms didn't seem to want to do what he told them to do.

"It's all right, love," Hermione said. "Let me."

She held the cup up to his mouth and tipped it in gently. Harry let the soothing liquid roll across his tongue and down his throat. His swallow was very audible. "Throat hurts a little," he said weakly, and then he coughed again, causing Hermione to jiggle the tea cup and slosh it's contents over the sides of the cup and down onto the bed.

"Sorry," Harry muttered while trying to catch his breath from the coughing jag.

"Don't be," Hermione said kindly, taking care of the mess with one flick of her wand. "Would you like some more?"

"Mmm, a little," he said. "It feels good." Hermione helped him to take another sip.

"Mr. Potter," Severus said, coming into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. "You're awake."

"Hmm," Harry agreed, losing strength quickly. "Dizzy. Need to lie down."

Hermione quickly placed the cup on the bedside table and helped Harry to lie down again. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you." Harry closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep instantly. A second or two later, though, he said, "Sev'rus?"

"Yes, Harry, I'm right here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on Harry's knee under the covers.

"Will you read to me again later?"

Severus looked up quickly at Hermione, slightly embarrassed. He'd read aloud to the young man yesterday, certain Harry had been too out of it to even realize. When Hermione smiled fondly back at him, he said, "Of course I will, Harry. You sleep now." He squeezed Harry's knee encouragingly, then stood.

They watched him for a moment until it appeared that Harry was, actually, asleep this time. His breathing was still quite rapid, and Severus picked up his hand to feel for his pulse. His heart rate was quite accelerated. This was all very normal, but still concerning. Hopefully all of these symptoms would run their course over the next few hours and Harry would begin to feel better soon.

"Do you want me to stay with him today?" Hermione asked after tucking Harry's arm back under the blankets and smoothing them over his chest. She reached up to stroke his hair, and his breathing began to slow, so she continued her ministrations until he reached his usual sleep rhythm.

Severus looked down at the sleeping boy. "No," he said. "I don't mind. My work can wait another day." That was true, and he was worried enough about Harry to want to monitor him personally. Besides, the boy wanted Severus to read to him.

"Would you like me to stay home with you?"

"There is no need," he assured her. "Harry and I will be just fine."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. There was no one she would feel more comfortable leaving Harry with. "I know. Shall we eat?"

##########

By the end of that day, Harry's fever had broken, and he was able to sit up that evening and eat a little broth. He was still incredibly tired and itchy, though the salve Severus continued to provide helped, but he was definitely on the mend.

The following day, a Saturday, he spent sleeping off and on, with both Hermione and Severus wandering in and out of the bedroom from time to time to check on him and keep him company when he was awake. On Sunday, he insisted he was well enough to get out of bed and joined them at the breakfast table. After eating, he adjourned to the sofa in front of the fire for a brief nap, then was able to sit up and read until lunch time. After a longer nap in the afternoon, with the itching finally diminishing, Harry felt well enough to sit in the sitting room for a time after dinner had finished. Hermione and Severus sat with him, all of them sipping tea.

"So, Harry, while you were ill, Hermione and I had a discussion," Severus informed him.

That sounded ominous. "About what?"

Hermione and Severus exchanged a look. "Children," Hermione said.

"What children?"

"Our children," said Hermione.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Oh my God! Are you . . ."

"No, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "I'm not pregnant. We just talked about the possibility of having children."

"What on earth led you to talk about that?"

Before Hermione could speak about what had gotten them started down that road, Severus said, "It just came up. Hermione thought you'd favor the idea."

Just how much he favored that idea shown from Harry's eyes. "Very much so!" he said. "I've always wanted children. Heaps of them, actually."

"Well, I don't know about heaps," Hermione said quickly. She'd be the one bearing these children after all. "How about we start with one and see how it goes?"

Harry looked at both of them excitedly. "You really mean it? You really want to have kids?" He was looking at Severus now. The fact that Severus actually wanted children was more than a little surprising.

Severus nodded, and Hermione smiled at both of them.

"When?" Harry demanded.

"Well, it takes a bit of time for them to gestate, you understand. We cannot present you with a fully-formed infant tomorrow."

"I know that, you prat," Harry said good-naturedly. "But when do you want to start working on one?"

Severus and Hermione exchanged another look. They'd never actually discussed that part, but it was obvious from Harry's enthusiasm that he wasn't going to want to wait now that they'd broached the subject.

Severus shrugged. "I don't see any reason to wait, now that we've made the decision. Although I would suggest that that decision rests entirely with Hermione. She is one whose body will be called upon to host this child. She is one who will have to suffer through the effects of pregnancy, the one who will have to give birth, the one whose work will be disrupted."

Ideally, Hermione would have liked to wait at least another two years. When she'd planned her life out, starting from around age twelve, she'd always envisioned finishing school, going to university, settling into a career, finding a suitable mate, and _then_ having children. Funny how life worked itself out while you were busy planning it.

But Harry was positively glowing with the thought of having a child. She was quite sure that if it were possible, Harry would offer to carry the child. But even with wizards that wasn't possible, and she knew the physical burden could fall only on her shoulders. Did she want this now? Were there reasons to do it now, as opposed to waiting? Were there reasons _not_ to do it now?

In the end, it was Harry's face, bright and hopeful and still showing signs of his illness, that decided her. "As soon as you're feeling up to it," she said.

"Oh, I could do it now," he assured her, but his mind was mostly on other things. The idea of a baby in the house had made something click into place. He had been at loose ends about what to do with his life now that he had no dark lords to chase. No idea that occurred to him seemed right, like the right fit for him and what he wanted now. But this – this seemed more than right. It seemed . . . ordained. As though whatever supreme ruler of the universe was out there had picked this especially for Harry Potter. But how would Hermione and Severus feel about it? Would they approve? Would they feel he was wasting his life? Would they think it was a terrible idea, that he was unqualified for such an important task?

Severus and Hermione watched Harry as the wheels spun in his mind. Still sluggish from his recent period of inactivity, they seemed to be turning a little slower than normal, and it took a while for all of this to work itself out. But once it did, he knew that this was the right thing to do.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Severus finally asked.

"I was just thinking . . . I want to stay home with the baby. Hermione, you just started this new job, and I know how much you like it, and you'll be making this huge sacrifice just carrying the baby and giving birth to it. I don't know a lot about babies, but I can spend more time with Teddy and learn. I don't want our child to grow up in child care because all of his parents work. I want to be there for him. What do you think?" He looked back and forth between them, desperately wanting their approval.

"This is how you wish to spend your life?" Severus asked, his doubt showing. "You are an extremely talented wizard, Harry. There are so many career paths open to you."

"I don't want any of that stuff," Harry said. "I've thought and thought about what I want to do, but nothing seems right. _This_ seems right. Hermione?"

"Severus is right, Harry. You could do and be anything you wanted. Is this what you really want, in your heart?"

Harry nodded. "What could be more important than raising children?" He was going to be _so_ good at this. He would give their child everything he didn't have after his parents were killed – love, attention, time, consistent discipline.

Severus voiced the largest concern he had about all of this. "Would it bother you, Harry, that _you_ might not be the child's biological father?"

"You mean that he might be yours instead?" Severus nodded, and Harry said, "Why would that matter?" truly perplexed as to why he would ask that. "I love Teddy, and he's not mine. If this child was yours, I'd love him even more, because I love you." To Harry, it was that simple, and Severus envied him that purity of heart.

Should they tell him it was possible that he might never father children? Severus looked quickly at Hermione, asking her with his eyes. She knew what he was thinking, and she shook her head once. Not that Harry saw this exchange. He'd closed his eyes and lay his head back against the sofa, lost in a fantasy of them with a baby. A baby!

Suddenly Harry's eyes popped open and he sat up. "I think we should start tonight."

"You're still recovering . . ." Hermione started to protest.

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, and he got to his feet. "I'm going to bed. I'll be waiting for you."

After he'd left them, Severus looked at Hermione. "Should we tell him?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's only a tiny chance, right?" When Severus nodded, she continued. "It doesn't matter to him. I really believe that. With other men, I'm not sure I could say that, but with Harry . . ."

Severus knew she was right, and he stood up. "We'd better get in there, before he falls asleep."

But it was too late. But the time they'd finished their bedtime preparations, Harry was snoring lightly in the middle of the bed. "We shouldn't wake him," Hermione said quietly.

"No," Severus agreed. He pulled her into his arms, his cock beginning to fill and swell after a two-day abstinence while Harry was so ill. "But we could get started without him."

Hermione lifted on her toes to kiss him in agreement. Severus lay her on the bed beside the sleeping Harry, and with a flick of his wand they were both naked. Hermione shivered in anticipation. "No contraceptive spell tonight," he reminded her before lowering his body to cover hers. They'd both been without for longer than they were accustomed to, and Severus slid directly into her waiting wet heat. Hermione reached out and took Harry's hand into her own and pulled it close. Severus wrapped his hand around both of theirs and began to move, slowly at first, but quickening the rhythm soon after. Still asleep, Harry rolled toward them and curled up by their side, one arm stealing around Severus' lower back, his hand clinging to Severus' hip while the man pounded into Hermione. When he finally reached his peak, he gasped out her name and spilled himself deep inside her. Hermione, close but not there yet, growled in frustration. Severus kept thrusting, though he was exquisitely sensitive to every movement, until Hermione came, thrashing below him and groaning out her release.

Severus kissed Hermione tenderly before rolling off of her and settling her at his side. Harry snuggled in closer to her other side, and Severus reached over to kiss him on the cheek. He looked down at Hermione. "I love you," he declared without thought. "_Both _of you."

Hermione smiled up at him and was just about to respond when a more than half-asleep Harry said, "Love you, too. Sick bloke, trying to sleep here. Can you two keep it down?"

Severus smiled and settled in next to Hermione, content and looking forward to whatever the future might bring.

##########

Two months later, Hermione presented them with the news that she thought she was pregnant.

"What, already?" Severus asked, with a stunned expression.

Hermione blushed slightly. "Maybe I'm a descendant of the Weasleys somehow."

"Don't even think such a horrifying thought," Severus said with a shudder. "A child of mine, with Weasley blood!"

"Be good, Severus," Hermione chided. "The Weasleys are perfectly nice people." At a look of disbelief from Severus, she amended, "Most of them."

Harry still hadn't spoken, processing this news.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked, noticing his gobsmacked expression.

Without speaking, Harry rose from his chair, dropped to his knees beside Hermione's chair and lay his head in her lap. "Thank you, Hermione," he said fervently. "Thank you." Near tears that they were going to have a baby, Harry simply stayed there, breathing deeply, trying to calm his rampaging emotions. Hermione reached down and stroked his hair, tears forming in her eyes at his obvious happiness over this wondrous news.

To be continued . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**THREE FOR ALL**

**by Warviben**

**Summary: **Harry and Hermione grow closer after Ron leaves them during the hunt for horcruxes. Their lives become even more interesting when Severus Snape joins them after the final battle. Strong warnings for sexual content.

**Warning:** This fic is for grown-ups. It contains detailed descriptions of sexual activities between two characters (a male and a female) and three characters (a female and two males). If you are not old enough, or if this type of thing is not for you, please stop reading now.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or the basic premise for their existence. I guess I do own some of the characters that come later – you'll know who they are.

_##########_

_From Chapter 3:_

"_Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked, noticing his gobsmacked expression._

_Without speaking, Harry rose from his chair, dropped to his knees beside Hermione's chair and lay his head in her lap. "Thank you, Hermione," he said fervently. "Thank you." Near tears that they were going to have a baby, Harry simply stayed there, breathing deeply, trying to calm his rampaging emotions. Hermione reached down and stroked his hair, tears forming in her eyes at his obvious happiness over this wondrous news._

##########

Two days later, Harry presented Hermione with a present as she entered the kitchen upon returning from work. "What's this?" she asked.

"Just open it," he said. He'd been floating since she'd announced that she was pregnant, and he just had to do something for her, even if it was something so small.

Looking up at him with a look of sadness that he couldn't comprehend, Hermione removed the wrapping from a book and turned it over to read the title. _What to Expect When You're Expecting_.

"I sent a message to Minerva yesterday and asked her to find me a book about pregnancy, so I could know what you were going through, you know? And I looked through it after it arrived this morning, and it's full of really useful information. I'm sure you'll find it helpful, too. I know it isn't much, but I wanted to get you something to show how happy I am about this and how much I'm looking forward to this baby. I'm going to do everything I can to make this whole experience as easy on you as I possibly can, so if you need anything, anything at all, you just have to tell me, and I'll – "

"Harry," Hermione interrupted him. "Oh, Harry." She set the book on the table. "Thank you for the book. I'm sure it'll be perfectly wonderful, but I was wrong. I was only late. I'm not pregnant. I'm sorry." And she _was_ sorry. She was sorry because she wanted this baby, too, but she was more sorry at the look of absolute dismay that was on Harry's face now.

"You're not?" he asked, his voice very small.

"No. I'm sorry I got your hopes up."

Tears in his eyes, Harry struggled to keep himself together for her. "It's not your fault."

"We'll keep trying. It's only been a couple of months," she reassured him. "It will happen. Don't worry, okay?" She had tears in her eyes now as well, more for his disappointment than her own.

Being strong for her, he said, "Of course it will happen." He pulled her into a hug. "It will happen soon," he repeated.

She pulled away from him. "I'm going to go freshen up a bit before supper."

"Of course. Go. We'll be here when you're ready."

As soon as she left the room, Harry looked at Severus and couldn't hold it in any longer. Flying at his lover, he barreled into his embrace and sobbed out his despair into Severus' chest. Severus held the distraught young man, stroking his back and his hair, amazed that this news had so upset Harry.

But two more months later, and Hermione presented them with the news, on Christmas day, that she really was pregnant. This time, she'd waited longer after missing her period, and she'd purchased a Muggle pregnancy test which confirmed what she'd thought. This time was different – she'd felt nauseous every morning for the last week and extremely tired at the end of every day. She'd somehow known that she was carrying a life within her, and she was so excited to share the news with them.

Harry had suspected something was up. He'd always known when it was Hermione's time of the month – they had sex almost every night, except for those four or five days when she was menstruating. He hated those days of the month, and he kept a calendar somewhere in the back of his brain so he'd know when those days were approaching. He'd known it had been five weeks, then six, then seven, since her last cycle, but he hadn't said anything. He had been so very disappointed after the last false alarm, and he didn't want to go through that again. So he waited for her to say something, and when she finally did, he burst into tears again, this time tears of happiness. This was the greatest Christmas present, by far, that he had ever been given.

##########

"Merry Christmas, Mum!" Hermione declared. "Merry Christmas, Daddy! Oh, it's so good to see you!" she said, hugging both her parents. This visit had been planned even before Hermione knew she had important news to share. She hadn't seen her parents in months and had made arrangements with Minerva for her assistance in helping them floo from the Leaky Cauldron.

"How was your trip?" Hermione asked after she'd gotten them both brushed off and settled with a cup of tea in the sitting room.

"It was . . . interesting," Charlotte Granger answered. "Your entire world is interesting, Hermione. Traveling through fire, for goodness sake."

"Where is everyone?" Jonathan Granger asked, openly eyeing the interesting things lying around.

"Harry and Severus are down in the basement. Severus set up a potions lab down there."

"Are they brewing potions on Christmas day?" Charlotte asked.

"No. They're down there waiting for me to talk with you."

This got her parents' attention.

"Hermione, we already know that you're living here with two men. There are two bedrooms, and you just put us in one of them. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the three of you are sharing the other," her father said, straight-forward as usual.

Hermione had never exactly told her parents in the letters she'd written to them the exact situation she was in here. She wasn't trying to hide anything, but on the other hand, she hadn't felt the need to be graphic about all of it. That, of course, was not her news, but it helped considerably if they were already accepting of the basic structure of the relationship she shared with Harry and Severus.

"And you're all right with that?"

"It's . . . unusual," Jonathan allowed. "But you've always been unusual, Hermione. We encouraged that in you. It would be hypocritical of us now to disparage your lifestyle."

Hermione beamed at them, not for the first time happy that she had such progressive and accepting parents. "And you, Mum?"

"All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy, dear. In your work, in your life, in your relationships. I have never seen you looking happier, and if it takes those two men to make it so, then I have no argument with it."

Hermione reached over and hugged her mother. "Oh, I am happy. Very happy. Work is going great. And this relationship with Severus and Harry is so fulfilling. But there's more." She smiled at both of them. "I'm pregnant."

Okay, _this_ was surprising. "Pregnant?" her father repeated. "Do you know which . . .?"

"No."

"Does it matter?" Charlotte asked.

"Not one little bit."

Charlotte hugged her daughter tightly. "Then I'm thrilled for you. Oh, honey! A grandchild! When are you due?"

"I haven't seen a doctor yet, but my best guess is May or June."

"And how have you been feeling?" Charlotte asked.

"Can we get the men up here now?" Jonathan interrupted. "Now that you've broken the news." He really had no interest in listening to the women discuss female things. If he had to be here, the fathers of his soon-to-be grandchild should be as well.

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "Let me call them up."

Once Harry and Severus had come up, Hermione began introductions. "You, of course, have already met Harry. Mum, Dad, this is Severus Snape, former Potions Master at Hogwarts. Severus, these are my parents, Charlotte and Jonathan Granger."

Handshakes between Severus and the 'rents, but only hugs would do for Harry. These people were _family_ now. His in-laws, and the only grandparents his child would have.

Jonathan took in Harry and Severus with one glance. "Why don't we let the women talk. Is there some place we might have a moment alone?"

Harry and Severus exchanged a glance. What was _this _about? "Certainly," Severus said, ever the gallant host. "Perhaps you'd like to see the lab?"

"Lead the way," Jonathan instructed.

Severus gave Jonathan a brief tour of the lab, then turned to face this man, who was the same age as he, whose daughter he was sleeping with and whom he may have impregnated, and waited for him to have his say.

Jonathan cleared his throat and got right to it. "My daughter is pregnant. Do you have any idea which of you is the father?"

Harry and Severus looked at each other, then back at their father-in-law. Harry shrugged, and Severus said, "At this point, there's no way of knowing."

"She said it did not matter to her. I take it that it doesn't matter to either of you, either?"

Both men shook their heads.

"My daughter thinks that her mother and I are progressive and tolerant of all things. Perhaps her mother is. I, on the other hand, am a bit more of a traditionalist than I had thought. The idea of her living here with two men, that you _share_ her, makes me more than a little uncomfortable. That one of you is old enough to be her father makes me more than a little uncomfortable. That you're all living here together without benefit of a marriage bothers me less, but still . . . I love my daughter. She says she's happy. She certainly appears to be so. However, if either one of you hurts her, you will have me to answer to. And don't think that because I cannot do magic that I am not a threat. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Severus said, somewhat taken aback, but Harry only smiled. He understood, finally, this urge of a father to protect his young, no matter what the threat. He stepped forward and took Jonathan's hand between his own.

"I would never hurt Hermione," he said with sincerity. "And neither would Severus."

"I'm glad to hear it," Jonathan said. "Shall we rejoin the ladies?"

##########

Harry enjoyed these moments, at the end of the day, when the three of them lay in the bed, satisfied and happy. He kept a hand on Hermione's belly so that he could feel every kick and movement from the life within. Since the baby had gotten big enough for him to feel it, Harry had been fascinated and was already deeply in love with the little person inside there. He worshiped Hermione, waiting on her as much as she would let him, and he simply couldn't wait until the baby was born.

"What are we going to name him?" Harry asked one such night. He stroked Hermione's belly, which nearly tickled, but she humored him because she so loved the look on his face when he did this. At their last prenatal visit, they'd finally given in and asked Madam Pomfrey to reveal the sex of the baby.

"Hadn't thought about it, really," Hermione murmured sleepily. "Did you have a suggestion?"

Harry _had _been thinking about it. He thought about everything baby-related, almost to the exclusion of anything else. "I think that Severus should name this child," he said, turning to his older lover.

Severus blinked in surprise. He'd assumed that every decision related to this child was going to be made by committee. "Me?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly. "You're the oldest. You should get first shot at continuing your family name."

"Oh," Hermione said. "The last name. I really hadn't thought about what his _last_ name would be. I supposed he can't be Junior Snape-Granger-Potter. That would be a bit cumbersome."

"Would you want to name him after yourself, Severus?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely not." Severus was adamant. "And I will not be naming him for my father either." He was surprised that he was actually going to be given the honor of naming their first-born. He'd resigned himself several years ago to the fact that he was likely to be the last of the Snapes. "Are you sure you want to give this responsibility to me? What if I decide to name him . . ." he paused to think of a suitably horrific name, "Horatio Sixtimus Snape?"

"Then we'll come up with a cute nickname and never call the poor bastard by his real name," Harry offered. "But yes, I'm all right with you choosing the name. You, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at both of them. "Fine. But I get the next one," she bartered.

"And she'll be a Granger. And I get the one after that," Harry said with a yawn. "And all the ones after that, we'll decide together."

"_All the ones_, Harry?" Hermione asked with a skeptical raise of an eyebrow.

Harry grinned. "Thought I could slip that by you while you were sleepy."

"Go to sleep, dreamer," she said with a kiss to his forehead.

Harry scooted down and kissed her belly. "Good night, Horatio," he whispered.

##########

Time had never passed so slowly, in Harry's estimation. But finally, _finally_, their son arrived. Hermione had flooed to Hogwarts when her water broke, and after many torturous hours of intense labor, their baby had entered the world in a messy rush of yucky fluid, straight into Harry's arms under the watchful eyes of Madam Pomfrey.

"Severus, would you like to cut the cord?" the mediwitch offered.

"What? No, no. Please," he said, gesturing for her to continue.

"All right. Harry, you've got him?"

"I do," he assured her. He didn't think he'd ever let this child go. He was scrawny and naked and covered in gore, but Harry had never seen anything quite so beautiful.

Poppy finished her work with the new mother, then took the now squalling baby from Harry's arms and tended to him. Once cleaned and wrapped in a warm blue blanket, Harry took the baby to Hermione in the bed.

"Look, mum," he said, "he's perfect." He handed the baby to Hermione and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "Isn't he gorgeous?"

Hermione looked down at the red-faced baby in her arms and felt her heart being sucked out of her body. The baby had quieted down but now began renewed crying.

"He's likely hungry, dear," Madam Pomfrey suggested. "Will you be breast feeding?"

Hermione looked at Harry. This had been somewhat a bone of contention between them. Hermione wanted to breast feed the baby, at least for a little while. Harry had argued that since he would be caring for the baby, they should bottle feed him right from the start. When Hermione balked at this, Harry had suggested that she could pump breast milk, but Hermione didn't feel comfortable with that idea. Finally, she had relented, but it felt – wrong somehow.

"No. There are bottles of formula in the bag," Hermione said. "Severus, would you get one for me, please?"

Severus rooted around in the large go-bag Hermione had packed until he found a magically-cooled bottle. He cast a warming spell on it, handed it to Hermione, then sat on the bed beside his lover and his son. He looked down at the now suckling infant, and his breath caught in his throat.

"I think he has your nose, Severus," Harry noted, looking back and forth between the two.

Severus reached down and stroked the downy skull. "I am sorry," he said sincerely.

Harry laughed, then said, "Well, don't keep us in suspense. What's his name?"

Since being given this responsibility, Severus had spent many hours thinking of an appropriate name, one that the boy could be proud of, that would mean something. "I should like to name him Albus," Severus finally said. That name had presented itself to him early, and it had stuck. Albus Dumbledore had been his mentor and friend, and he could think of no better way to honor his memory than naming his firstborn son after the man.

"That's a wonderful name," Hermione said with a smile.

Severus looked up at Harry. "Albus James Snape."

Harry actually gasped. Severus wanted their son to have his father's name? This was a definite surprise. "Thank you," he said, tears forming in his eyes. He was already feeling really emotional after today's events, and this announcement was enough to push him over the edge. He reached over Hermione and kissed Severus soundly. "Thank you."

Not bothering to quell the tears that were now dripping down his face, Harry turned to Hermione and said, "And thank _you_, for this precious gift." He kissed her on the forehead, then pulled her head into a hug, careful not to disturb the feeding infant.

"You were magnificent," Severus agreed, kissing her as well.

When the baby had had his fill, he was inexpertly burped by his new mother. Harry's hands were almost itching to reach out and take the baby from her, so strong was his desire to care for this child. But Hermione had worked hard producing the little wrinkled bundle, and she deserved to have first shot at this. Harry could wait.

As soon as she was finished, she looked up at Severus. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Of course," Severus said, and awkwardly they transferred the now-sleeping child between them. Severus held him and looked down at him critically. "He is quite small," he observed, feeling as though he was holding a very insubstantial bundle.

"He's of average weight," Hermione assured him. "And he's quite big enough, thank you. Any larger, and I think I might have ripped in two!"

"Are you sore, Hermione?" Harry asked solicitously, though not taking his eyes off the baby. He wanted _so badly_ to hold him again! Was Severus _ever _going to be done with his turn?

"Madam Pomfrey has seen to that," Hermione assured him, "but I could use some sleep, I think. Will you two be all right with him if I take a nap?"

"Oh, yes," Harry assured her, hungrily watching Severus and Albus.

Severus finally noticed how eager the boy was, and he said, his voice tinged with amusement, "Harry, would you like to hold him now?"

Harry nearly leapt over the bed in his eagerness. He took the baby from Severus' arms, and it felt as though he'd been doing this all of his life. Al felt so natural in his arms, like his arms had been built for holding this child. Harry looked down at the perfection they had created. He felt like he could look at the baby forever and never tire of what he was seeing. Wandlessly, and without really even thinking about it, he transfigured the straight-backed chair next to Hermione's bed into a comfortable rocking chair, and he settled both of them into it.

Severus shook his head. That a wizard with this much power, that took so little effort to command, wanted to spend his life rearing children still confounded him.

While Harry talked softly to the baby, Hermione asked Severus, "Could you floo my parents and let them know Albus has arrived? Tell them I'll be out of here likely tomorrow and they can come to visit at the cottage then."

"I can do that. Do your parents have a fireplace, Hermione?"

"They do."

"Should we perhaps get them connected to the floo system? That way, they can visit whenever they like. Do you think they'd feel comfortable flooing by themselves?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Severus! I'm sure after I take them through a couple of times, they'll get used to it enough to travel alone."

"I shall speak with Minerva about it while you sleep." He'd let the Headmistress deal with the Ministry. The less he had to deal with that auspicious body, the better.

"Thank you," Hermione said, settling back into her pillow in preparation for a nice nap. She checked on her son first, but decided immediately that he was in capable hands, and she drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Harry singing a lullaby.

##########

Harry loved taking care of baby Al. Finally, he felt like he was doing what he was intended to do with his life. He and the baby formed a deep and instant bond, and Harry couldn't spend enough time with him. He volunteered for the nightly feedings and happily took each and every diaper change. He loved to sit with the boy in the rocking chair, feeding him, singing to him, reading to him, or just talking to him. He took Al outside very day so he could get a dose of fresh air and sunshine. Two or three times a week, Harry took Al to visit with Hermione's parents, and on the days that he wasn't there, Charlotte would pop in around lunch time to visit. She and Harry became very close as a result of all this time spent together.

After three weeks of maternity leave, Hermione returned to work. It was obvious that Harry was comfortable taking complete care of the baby, and she was not needed here. She knew she'd miss her son, but she was ready to return to the challenge that was her job. Coming home at the end of the day to see Harry and Al interacting was a joy in itself. Hermione was glad Harry was willing to do this. She didn't think she was capable of caring for an infant twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And the thought of leaving her precious baby boy in childcare with a total stranger was not appealing. So their situation was ideal, and she was thankful for it.

Severus was happy to let Harry and Hermione handle the day-to-day details of caring for the baby. Several times a week, Harry forced him to hold the boy, wanting to share with him the wonder and the pride, and if it weren't for that forced interaction, he likely would go weeks without touching the child. He was glad to know that the child was receiving such loving attention, and he was happy to parent from afar. He loved his son, but he had to admit that infants made him nervous. And the boy was clearly Severus Snape's son – they shared the same eyes, the nose, and ears. Just to be sure, Severus had cast a paternity spell on the boy on the sly, and had confirmed that the boy was indeed the product of his sperm. Secretly he was pleased about this. He'd said that he wouldn't care if the boy were his or Harry's, but he found now that a small, petty part of him did.

##########

Months passed in this way. Albus seemed to grow daily. He learned to crawl and then, just after his first birthday, to walk. He was a lively, inquisitive boy, into and onto everything, and Harry was exhausted chasing him around all day. He loved that boy more that life itself, and he'd thought that his life couldn't get any better – until Hermione announced that she was pregnant again. After Albus' first birthday, Hermione had determined on her own that it was time to start working on the next one, and without telling either of her lovers, she'd stopped using the contraception charm. When Albus was fifteen months old, she shared with Harry and Severus that she was pregnant again. Harry was ecstatic. Severus was pleased but basically indifferent – another child would hardly affect his life.

##########

Patrick Jonathan Granger, named for his grandfather, arrived the appropriate number of months later. Hermione was worried that Harry might be overwhelmed taking care of two small children, but he added the new responsibilities to the old with nary a blink. This was his raison d'etre, and he was good at it. The boys became his life. He lived and breathed for them, and he was happy to do so. He hardly ever left the house unless he was encumbered with a diaper bag filled with baby things and accompanied by two small people who thought the world revolved around their daddy.

##########

As he grew, it became obvious that PJ was also the biological child of Severus Snape. The resemblance to his older brother was remarkable. When looking at baby pictures of PJ now and Al at the same age, only Harry could discern the minute differences between the two. Harry didn't care – he could not love the children more if they'd been of his flesh. Despite that, he was beginning to wonder – was it a fluke that Severus had fathered both of their children, or was something wrong with him? So he left the children with Charlotte one afternoon and went to an anonymous Muggle clinic. His face glowing red, he was given a magazine and a plastic cup, and he produced a sample for testing. Five days later, he returned for the results.

"Mr. Evans, there were very few sperm cells present in your semen sample, and those that were present showed a marked reduction in motility," he was told.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, trying to be adult and not get embarrassed by the subject matter. Still, he felt his face coloring.

"We should test another sample to be sure, and we can do blood work as well, but the sample you provided indicates that the chances of you impregnating anyone are markedly low."

Harry knew that testing another sample wouldn't provide a different result. "I had chicken pox a couple of years ago. Could that be why?"

"There are many possible causes for infertility. Excessive drug or alcohol use, certain types of medication, genetic conditions, and testicular trauma are just a few. Are you on any medication? Have you ever been struck in the testicles?"

Harry shook his head no. He'd never been struck in the bits, but he'd had some interesting experiences with broomsticks over the years.

The doctor went on. "An excessively high fever _can _cause a reduction in sperm production, but that's usually temporary. In order to pinpoint the cause, you'll need a complete workup including a physical, an extensive history, and the blood work I mentioned. Once we have some idea as to the cause of the problem, we could discuss what treatment options, if any, are available. We are not equipped to do this work here, but I would be happy to refer you to someone who specializes in infertility."

_Infertility_. What a horrible word. "No," Harry said, stunned by this news, though he'd known somewhere deep inside that something was wrong with him. He knew it wasn't his fault, that he'd done nothing wrong, but he couldn't help but feel like a little less of a man. The doctor was waiting for a response, though, so he gathered himself together and said, "I need some time to think this over. Thank you for your time."

"If you change your mind, just give me a call. I'm happy to make that referral."

Harry got up and left without further word.

##########

Harry was distracted for days after his visit to the clinic. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. He had two children who couldn't be more his own if he'd given birth to them himself. It simply didn't matter that they didn't share DNA. But one small part of him was distraught that the Potter line would end with him. Potters had been around for centuries, and he had not done his part to ensure that they would continue. He wasn't upset for himself, but he did feel as though he had disappointed his parents.

For the most part, though, he was too busy taking care of two young boys to give it much thought. He was happy, really happy, every day, watching his children grow and learn.

The issue of education came up when Al turned five. As much as Harry didn't want to be parted from the boy for any part of the day, he was in favor of sending Al to school somewhere, whether it be Muggle or Wizard, to learn social skills. The only time he interacted with other children now was when he spent time with his grandparents and they took him to a local park to play. There were things that could only be learned through interaction with other children the same age, and Al wasn't learning them tucked away here in the cottage.

Severus would prefer that the children be home schooled, though he did not have the time to do this himself and didn't really think Harry equipped for the task. He offered his opinion, but when presented with the problems inherent in this plan, he had no solutions.

Hermione really had no preference as long as Al was receiving a consistent, structured education which would prepare him for Hogwarts and for life. Finally, a compromise was worked out with Minerva's assistance. She knew of several other families who were in the same predicament, and she put them in touch with each other. After much discussion, seven families, containing twelve children (including Teddy Lupin) between the ages of five and ten, got together to form their own school, with three of the parents, including Harry, taking up teaching posts. They devised a curriculum and lesson plans and got together for three hours a day, Monday through Friday, in the large dining room of the manor house of one of the school members. Harry brought PJ with him, and he found he enjoyed teaching history, both Muggle and wizarding, to the children.

Harry wanted a third child, as they had decided that they'd each get one child to carry on their name. Harry knew that the child, if and when they had another, would not biologically be his, but he didn't care. He loved children, and he would have gladly had several if Hermione had been willing. When PJ turned two, Hermione stopped using birth control, but it was some time later before child number three was conceived. Harry had resigned himself to three, and he waited anxiously for the third to arrive.

##########

She finally arrived almost five years to the day after her brother PJ. Harry had just about given up hope of having another child, and he was thrilled to have an infant in the house again. He'd named her hundreds of times during Hermione's pregnancy, but hadn't really decided on a name until she was born, when she became Rosemary Eileen Potter. It was Severus' turn to weep with sentimentality.

##########

Harry had known he was going to embarrass himself, but he was trying very hard to keep himself together so as not to embarrass his son. They were on Platform 9 3/4, looking for Albus in the train windows. PJ stood on his toes, trying to see everything and everyone, and Rosemary clung tightly to Harry's hand in the milling crowd. Snape stood beside them, stern and silent.

Hermione jumped down off of the train. "He's settled."

"How is he?" Harry asked, very close to tears at the thought of losing his oldest.

"He's all right," Hermione said with an understanding smile. Albus and Harry were very close – it was hard to predict who would miss the other more.

"He understood why I couldn't go on the train with him, right?" Harry asked worriedly. He'd told Albus that he thought he should wave goodbye safely from the platform, afraid he would break down sobbing on his son's shoulder. Or pull him off the train and tell him he had to stay home for another year. Or Two. Or Seven.

"Yes, he understood," Hermione assured him. "It's nearly eleven. He said he'd get to a window and wave goodbye."

They searched up and down the train, looking for the familiar black hair in one of the windows. Suddenly, a figure came hurtling off the train and threw itself into Harry's arms. "I'm sorry, Dad," Al muttered into Harry's chest. "I just had to see you one more time."

Harry let go of Rosemary's hand so he could embrace his son and hold onto him tightly. Tears he couldn't stop leaked from his eyes as he clung to his boy one last time before sending him off on his own to the large, scary, wonderful world of Hogwarts. He knew Minerva was there and had promised to watch over their son, but he also knew from experience how much mischief a child could get up to directly under the noses of responsible adults.

"You write to me as soon as you get there," Harry instructed into Al's ear. They'd gotten Al an owl so that they could communicate regularly with the boy while he was at school. "And don't forget to write to your grandparents."

"I will," Al promised.

The station clock chimed eleven, and the Express whistle sounded.

"Al, you have to get on the train," Hermione said, laying a hand on her son's shoulder.

Al pulled away from Harry, and letting him go was the hardest thing Harry had ever done. Al turned and gave his mother a quick hug. "Love you, Mum," he said. He leaned low enough to give Rosemary a kiss on the head, then turned self-consciously to his other father. "Goodbye, Father," he said stiffly, extending his hand toward the man.

Severus shook his hand solemnly. "Good luck, Albus. Behave and study hard."

"Yes, sir." With a firm punch on the arm to his little brother, Albus jumped onto the already moving train without another look back.

Harry grabbed up the hands of his other two children and began to pull them toward the exit. He couldn't stay and watch the train leave – he'd break down completely. He needed to get home, where he could have his meltdown in private.

As soon as they could, the family apparated home, and Harry retreated immediately to the bedroom. Exchanging an understanding look, Hermione and Severus let him go and left him to his grief-letting for a bit.

##########

Albus had written the very night he arrived at Hogwarts, full of the news that he had been sorted into Ravenclaw. He described the friends he made on the train, went on at length about seeing the castle for the first time from the boats, and raved about the feast they'd enjoyed. Harry cherished this missive, as well as the others the boy sent faithfully and regularly during his first month away from home.

One such letter, just a few weeks into the term, had Albus excited about something else. Quidditch tryouts had been announced, and Albus wanted to try out for the team. Ravenclaw had lost five of its starting players from last year's squad, and the field was open for anyone who showed any talent on a broom whatsoever.

_So I think I have a pretty good chance to make the team, _Albus wrote. _I've been flying since I was practically a baby, right? I'd most like to be the seeker, but if I got the chance to play, I'd be willing to do anything. _

_So what do you think? Should I try out? Do I stand a chance? I know that first years don't usually make their house teams, but Dad did, right? I'm not saying I'm as good as Dad was, but I think I can hold my own. I'll wait to decide what to do until I hear from you._

_Your loving son,_

_Al_

Harry felt excitement course through him when he read Al's letter. He missed Quidditch so! To have his son playing the game would be almost as exciting as being able to do so himself. He could just imagine it. They'd travel as a family to Hogwart's for Al's games and watch him proudly from the stands. Al was an excellent flyer, and Harry felt certain he'd earn a place on the team. He eagerly began to form a response to Al in his head, full of training suggestions and questions about when the first game was and . . .

"Absolutely not," Severus said as he read Al's letter at the dinner table.

"What?" Harry asked. "What do you mean?"

"He's not playing quidditch," Severus clarified.

"Why not?"

"There are several reasons, but foremost is that he is a first-year, and his mind should be on his studies at this point," Severus stated.

"I played my first year," Harry countered. "And my studies didn't suffer."

"No," Severus admitted. "Your studies didn't suffer from playing Quidditch. Your studies suffered because you couldn't keep that cute little button nose of yours out of things that were clearly none of your business."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "You thought my nose was cute when I was eleven?"

"In retrospect," Severus said with a sniff. "Albus will have plenty of time for Quidditch when he's older and has a better educational foundation beneath him."

"Hermione?" Harry said, turning to her. "What do you think?"

"Hmmm? About what?" Hermione had been reading the _Prophet_ and had not been paying attention to their discussion.

"Al wants to play Quidditch. I think he should go ahead and try out. Severus thinks he shouldn't, that he should concentrate on his school work. What do you think?"

Hermione thought for a moment. No matter how she answered the question, she was sure to irritate one of them. However, Harry had asked for her opinion, and she gave it to him. "I think Severus is right. I've seen what happens to boys when they become Quidditch-obsessed. Everything else takes a back seat, including school work. I think he should wait, maybe try out next year or the year after, depending on how he does academically this year."

Severus nodded at her in appreciation of her views.

"You never liked Quidditch!" Harry accused, looking at both of them. "Neither of you! Just because you weren't good at something while you were at school doesn't mean it has no value!"

Two pairs of eyes glared back at him.

"It has nothing to do with not being good at it," Hermione defended her position.

"But it does have everything to do with an eleven year old boy not being able to prioritize properly," Severus continued. "He is on his own for the first time. He will not have you there, holding his hand, telling him when to study and when to eat and when to bathe. He will have to make those decisions for himself now, and the fewer distractions he has this year, the better foundation he will build for himself which will only help him in years to come. If he performs well in the next year or two, perhaps we could reconsider, and he could play then, when he is older and more responsible. Hermione?"

"I agree with Severus," Hermione said gently, sensing the disappointment Harry would feel before he even showed it on his face.

"Two against one," Severus noted with a bit of a gleeful sneer.

"So this is a democracy now?" Harry demanded. "We're going to vote on things? Perhaps you'd like a say in what I feed the children for lunch tomorrow? Or maybe we should form a committee to discuss which book Rosemary and I read next. Since when have you even cared enough about what the children are up to to want to interfere?"

Severus, affronted by this accusation (mostly because it was based largely in fact), stiffened his posture and rose to his full height in his chair. Glaring at the younger man, Severus bit out, "Are you going to inform the boy of our decision, or am I?"

"_I_ will," Harry muttered angrily. He could only imagine how Severus might word such a letter. Albus was going to be extremely disappointed, and Harry wanted to soften the blow as much as he could. He wondered if he could get up to Hogwarts to tell the boy personally. That probably wasn't practical, but he thought he should probably get a letter off right away so Al wouldn't keep planning excitedly for something that wasn't going to happen. Severus could be such a git!

Said git rose from his chair and peered down his nose at Harry. "See that you do it soon. Or _I_ shall." Obviously angry, Severus whirled from the room and stomped down into his lab.

"Is Father angry?" PJ asked over his dinner.

"Maybe a little," Hermione said. "Finish your dinner. You all right, Harry?"

"Me? I'm fine. It's Al's heart that's going to be broken."

"He's eleven, Harry. He'll get over it. He's got time to play Quidditch."

Harry didn't answer. She didn't understand. Neither of them understood. Composing an entirely new letter in his head now, Harry drank his coffee and watched her leave the room. Sensing her Daddy was upset, Rosemary got down from her own chair and climbed into Harry's lap.

##########

_Dear Al:_

_Thanks for your letter. It's always so nice to hear from you. _(Harry always said that, even if Al's letters came every day, because he believed it.) _Rosemary sends you a hug and a kiss. She told me yesterday that she misses you. I think PJ does, too, because he seems a little lost without you. I know I do, but we've already establish that I'm an old softie, right?_

_Your Father, mother and I spoke about Quidditch. We _(Harry had to grit his teeth here to get this down on the parchment) _feel that you are too young, and that your school work should be your priority now. This is not a reflection on how I think you would do at a tryout. I've seen you fly _(Harry had _taught _him to fly!)_ and I know that you would be an asset to your team. If_ _you work hard and get the grades we know you are capable of this year, there is no reason why you can't try out for the team next year. I know you are disappointed by this decision, and for that I am truly sorry._

_I love you, son. I'm here if you need to vent._

_Love always,_

_Dad_

##########

One week later, a letter arrived in the charmed box from Minerva McGonagall. Had Harry known what the result of that letter would be, he might very well have incinerated it rather than reading it. As it was, he had no idea that his world was about to be upended, and he looked forward to her letter with anticipation, certain she'd have some words to share regarding Albus' performance.

"It's from Minerva," Harry said with a smile as he sat back down at the table with Severus. Hermione had already left for work, and the children were in their rooms getting ready for their day and playing.

"Oh?" Severus asked without looking up from the _Prophet_. "What does Minerva have to say?"

Harry lay the letter on the table and began to read it while he munched on a piece of toast. Halfway through the one-page missive, he suddenly lost his appetite. In fact, he thought maybe what he'd already eaten was going to make a reappearance.

"Is something wrong with Albus?" Severus asked, noticing Harry's abnormal stillness.

Harry's first instinct was to protect his son, but he squashed it down because that would mean lying to Severus, and he couldn't do that. He sighed. "He's fine. He's . . ." Harry stopped. Severus was going to be so angry with the boy.

"Give me the letter," Severus demanded.

Knowing that it would be useless to procrastinate, Harry handed the letter across the table. Severus read:

_Hello all,_

_I wanted to drop you a brief note to congratulate you on your son. All of his teachers have commented on what a fine young man he is, polite and studious and intelligent. His grades are exemplary, and his behavior since his arrival here has been above reproach. You should be very proud. And to be selected for the Quidditch team during his first year! I see he has inherited his father's skills on a broom - Harry's, not yours, Severus. Of course, he got his potions ability from you, Severus, so that must be some consolation to you. Congratulations on the wonderful job you have done with this young man. We all look forward to receiving your other children here in thefuture._

_With love,_

_Minerva_

Severus set the letter down gently, belying the rage that was building inside him. "I thought we discussed this."

"We did," Harry said. "I – "

"You were supposed to tell him that he was forbidden from trying out for the team."

"I – "

"We sat at this table, and we had this discussion. We decided that he was too young and that his studies were more important," Severus barreled on.

"Well, technically, _you_ decided that. But I – "

"And you disagreed, and rather than writing to him as you were instructed to do, you encouraged him to go against my decision."

"What? I would – "

"Because you, when you were his age, never listened to the adults around you. You always knew better. You thought the rules did not apply to you. And you're teaching Albus to be the same way."

"I never – "

"Do not try to justify your actions, Potter. There is no justification for this!"

"Would you let me speak?!" Harry had finally had enough.

"By all means," Severus said, gesturing dramatically to him. "Proceed."

Though he could tell that it would be pointless, that Severus had already made up his mind and nothing he said would make any difference, he tried. "I did not encourage Albus to try out for the team. I specifically told him that we had decided that he was not to try out for the team. My letter to him left no room for doubt."

"If that is so, then he defied you directly and egregiously. Which is more evidence of the fact that he is emulating your adolescent behavioral issues."

"You just don't understand," Harry tried to reason with the man, hoping to keep whatever punishment Severus might be devising to a minimum. "He must have been so disappointed. He's a terrific flyer, and I'm sure he earned his way onto the team with his skill. He knows he's good, and it must have just about killed him when he got my letter. I'm not saying that I agree with what he did, but I can certainly remember how important Quidditch can be. He's a smart kid, and he won't have any problem keeping up with his studies _and_ playing Quidditch."

"You think he's going to be allowed to play on the team, after defying a decision handed down by his parents?"

"You're going to take it away from him? After he's earned a place?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I most certainly am."

"You can't do that, Severus," Harry pleaded. "You'll destroy him. You don't understand him like I do . . ."

Severus had heard enough. He was sensitive to the insinuation that he didn't love his children as much as Harry did. He knew he had reason to be insecure about his relationship with them – he had remained a stern figure in the background of his children's lives while Harry had been with them every day, elbow-deep in the trials and tribulations of growing up. Harry had a tight bond with each of the children, while Severus barely knew anything about them. Minerva had mentioned that the boy had inherited his potions skills from Severus – Severus had not known that the boy showed any proficiency in this area, though he vaguely remembered Harry beseeching him to let the boy spend time with him in the lab and Severus responding negatively to that suggestion. Children did not belong in a potions lab.

Severus did love his children – he just didn't know how to interact with them and show them the love and affection he felt for them. And to have Harry sit here and tell him that he understood the children better than Severus, while it was certainly true, fed into the very heart of Severus' insecurities.

He stood up and pointed a finger at Harry, barely able to get the words out he was so angry. "Those are _my _children, Potter. Mine! Not yours! You've been an acceptable nanny to them, but they are _my_ children. _I_ fathered them. And _I _and their mother will make decisions regarding their education and their lives. Is that clear?"

Harry sat in his chair, stunned at the older man's words. _Nanny_? Severus thought of him as a _nanny _for the children? His hand came up to cover his mouth, as he felt it might drop open at the shock of what he was hearing. He'd dedicated his entire life for the last eleven years to caring for the three children he considered partly his, and Severus was brushing that all aside because he had provided the sperm that conceived them? Tears leapt into his eyes at this betrayal of everything he held dear, and he might have cried, but PJ took this moment to enter the kitchen.

"I heard yelling. Is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, looking back and forth between them. Arguments in the public areas of the house between the three adults were rare and this one was obviously upsetting PJ. Harry got himself together for his son's – for the boy's benefit.

"Everything is fine," he said with as much certainty as he could muster, which turned out to be not much. "Are you ready for school?"

He looked distrustfully between his two fathers. It didn't feel like everything was fine. "I'm ready."

"Good," Harry said with a forced smile. "Would you make sure your sister is dressed and ready as well?"

"But it's still early," PJ pointed out.

"We'll be leaving a little early this morning. Go on, now."

"Okay, Dad," PJ agreed. He started to leave the room, but then looked back at Harry uncertainly, sensing his father's upset. "Love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Peej," Harry said, feeling the tears gathering again.

And that little public verbal exchange of affection did nothing to calm Severus' fears, and he growled.

PJ cast a concerned glance at his father and made a beeline from the room.

Eyes red, barely holding it together, Harry looked accusingly at Severus, giving him an opportunity to take it all back. Severus simply glared at him, and Harry left the room, defeated.

##########

Harry showed up unexpectedly at his in-laws' home with the two children in tow. "Harry!" Charlotte said, delighted to see them, as always. "Did I forget you were coming today?"

"No," Harry said, unable to look at her, certain she'd see the emotional state he was in. "I was wondering if you might be able to look after PJ and Rosie today."

Charlotte stepped closer so that she could speak to him without the children overhearing. "Is everything all right?"

"No," Harry said, his tortured voice barely above a whisper. "Severus and I . . . had a fight. I just need some time to myself. Would you mind?"

"No," Charlotte said immediately. She could see that the young man was in bad shape. "Is there anything I can do? Lend an ear? Brew a pot of tea?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. Hermione had already left for work, so she doesn't know. Can you floo her some time this afternoon and tell her the kids are here and ask her to pick them up on her way home? I'd do it now, but it's not worth disrupting her workday for."

"I can do that," Charlotte assured him. They'd had their floo connected to Hermione's office as well as to the cottage. They'd quickly become used to the floo and mastered its use. "Are you sure there's nothing more that I can do, dear?"

"No, thank you, Mum. I'll be all right. PJ, help Gran with your sister, all right?"

"Where are you going, Dad? Why aren't we going to school?"

Harry put a hand on PJ's shoulder. "I have something that I need to do today. You be good for Gran and take care of your sister and I'll . . ." He was about to say he'd see him later, but he wasn't sure that he would, and he didn't want to lie. "Just help Gran, okay?"

PJ threw himself into Harry's arms, struggling not to cry. What was wrong with Dad? Where was he going? Had Father done something? Harry held the boy close for a moment, then pushed him away. He had to get out of here. He was going to break down completely, and he could not do that in front of a nine-year old boy. Harry picked up Rosie and hugged her and kissed her, then he left without looking back.

He stopped at school long enough to tell them that neither he nor the children would be in that day, and then he disappeared.

##########

Hermione arrived back at the cottage mid-afternoon with the two children. She sent them off to their rooms to play and stomped down into Severus' lab.

"Hermione," he said, still bothered by his altercation with Harry earlier. "You're home early."

"I got a call from Mum. Harry left the kids with her this morning, saying he wasn't feeling well. I checked the bedroom – he's not there. Do you know where he went?"

"No," Severus said curtly, returning to his work. He was still angry with Potter and really couldn't care less where the whelp had gone to lick his wounds.

"Did you two fight?" Hermione pressed.

"We had words," Severus admitted.

"About what?"

"About a letter that arrived this morning. From Minerva. Your son has won a place on the Quidditch team."

"What? I thought we'd decided he wasn't going to try out?"

"We most certainly did," Severus confirmed.

"Didn't Harry tell him that?"

"I do not know what Potter said to him. Either he encouraged the boy in his actions, or the boy disregarded him. Either way, it's Potter's fault."

"How could it be Harry's fault if Albus disobeyed him?" Hermione asked, confused. And why was Harry all of a sudden _Potter_?

"Because he obviously has encouraged the boy to believe that disobeying the rules is acceptable. Just like Potter did when he was that age! Just like you – " Severus decided to stop there, before he alienated someone else today.

"Just like I did as well?" Hermione challenged. "Severus, what did you say to Harry to make him disappear like this?"

"I'm sure he hasn't _disappeared_. He's probably just gone off somewhere to sulk."

But Hermione didn't think so. PJ had been very upset about Harry's absence and obviously thought there was a reason to be concerned. "_What _did you say to him?" Hermione demanded.

Severus looked away, not exactly proud of what he'd done, though he felt no remorse.

"Severus?" Hermione prodded.

"I told him the children were mine and that _I_ would make decisions regarding their education and welfare."

"You didn't!" Hermione said, shocked and appalled at her lover's insensitivity.

"I did."

"Severus, how could you? Those children are more his than they are either of ours. He loves them with all of his heart, and they love him. I knew when I went back to work that I was giving up a closeness with them that could only be achieved through constant interaction with them. But I accepted that because I wanted the fulfillment that I thought I could only get through my work. Harry found his fulfillment with them, and he's been a wonderful parent to them. The fact that he may not have fathered them in the biological sense doesn't take away from everything he has done for them over the years. I cannot believe you!"

Hermione turned and began to stomp away from him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to find Harry. Once I do, you're going to fix this."

"Me? It is not my fault the boy disobeyed."

"No, it's not. And we'll deal with Albus appropriately. But it _is _your fault that you've hurt Harry and driven him away. You're going to apologize and find a way to bring him home. I will not let you drive this family apart because you're insecure about your relationship with the children. PJ and Rosemary had tea with Mum just before I picked them up, so they're good for a while. If I'm not back in a couple of hours, they'll need dinner. I will tell PJ to keep his eye on Rosie but to holler down here if he needs you."

"Hermione . . ." Severus started to say.

"Don't. Not now, Severus. I'm too angry. I will be back as soon as I find Harry."

##########

Hermione flooed into Grimmauld Place and immediately knew that Harry was here – she could feel him in the air. She checked the kitchen and found it empty, so she trudged up the stairs. She found him asleep on the bed she had shared with him when they lived here. His face was blotchy red, his breathing thick, and she knew he'd been crying. She sat on the bed beside him and stroked his head, relieved that she'd found him already. She'd really had no idea where to look next if he hadn't been here.

"Harry," she said quietly. "Harry, wake up."

Harry's eyes blinked open, and he smiled sleepily up at her, until he remembered where he was and why he was here. He turned his face away from her, but not before she caught the wave of pure misery that washed over his features.

"Are you all right, love?" Hermione asked.

"No." Harry felt as though he might cry again, then he thought maybe he'd cried every last tear he was capable of producing when he'd cried himself to sleep earlier.

"Come home, Harry. We'll work this out."

"I can't, Hermione," Harry said miserably. He sat up next to her, then got off the bed, needing to pace out some agitation.

"What Severus said was unconscionable," Hermione said. "But he didn't mean it. Come home and give him a chance to explain."

"But he _did_ mean it, Hermione!" Harry cried. "He meant it! You weren't there. He was so angry, and he blamed me, and he wouldn't give me a chance to explain, and when he did, he didn't believe a word I said! It felt just like back when I was a child and he'd caught me doing something that he just knew was wrong, no matter what the truth was. But I _didn't _encourage Al to try out for the team. I _wanted _to, but I respected Severus' wishes, and your wishes, and I told him he couldn't. I'm sorry he disobeyed, but he's not a bad boy! He just wanted to play Quidditch. I can understand that. But it wasn't _me! I_ didn't do anything! And Severus just . . ."

Harry was getting worked up, and Hermione stepped in front of him to stop his agitated movement. She took both his hands into hers. "Hush, Harry. I know you didn't do anything wrong. And I know Albus is a good boy. He's my son, too, remember?"

"Yeah. Your son. Your's and Severus'. Not mine," Harry said bitterly.

Hermione didn't bother disputing the truth of that statement. It was obvious who had sired Al. "I never thought that mattered to you."

"It doesn't!" Harry declared fiercely. "I love him more than life itself. The others, too. But it obviously matters to Severus, and he obviously feels like the biological claim he has on them supersedes any claim I might have on them based on the fact that I've spent every day of my life for the last eleven years taking care of them. And what's _he _done? Nothing, that's what he's done. He doesn't even know his own children. And they're growing up so fast, and soon they'll be gone and he'll have lost the chance to be a father to them."

"Come home, Harry," Hermione said urgently. "We need you. The children need you."

"I can't, Hermione," Harry whispered. "He's made it plain that he considers me nothing more than a nanny to them. He said that."

Hermione's anger at Severus climbed a notch higher at that pronouncement.

"If I can't parent them, like I've always done, I can't . . I can't just babysit. I _won't_. What if at some point he decides to exercise his parental rights and take them away from me? I won't be able to stop him, will I, because I have no legal right to them. It'll be better for me and for them if I just sever ties now. It might just kill me, but what difference does it make, because I have nothing left to live for anyway if I don't have them."

"Harry, please don't talk like that," Hermione begged. "We can work this out. Everyone's angry right now, and words have been said, hurtful words, but they can be taken back. You need to come home so we can work this out."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I love them too much to put them in the middle of a battle with Severus. They're his. He holds all the cards. I can't fight him on this, not when I know that he can get a solicitor and take them away from me legally. I can't stop him, if that's what he tries to do."

"But _I_ can," Hermione stated firmly. "I won't let him."

"But if he tries . . . what happens to the kids? They get put in the middle, and they get torn away from me by the authorities. How is that good for any of us?"

"It won't come to that," Hermione said assuredly. "Severus loves you, Harry, and he knows what a wonderful dad you are. You know what his childhood was like – he finds it very difficult to show affection towards the children, and he's insecure about his place in their lives. But you have to believe he didn't mean what he said."

"You don't know that. You didn't see him, Hermione. You didn't see how angry he was. He blames me for everything, just like he used to do. I guess he'll always assume the worst of me. If what we've shared over the last few years isn't enough to make him trust me enough to at least listen to my side before forming judgments, then I don't know what else I can do. Frankly it's surprising that this hasn't happened sooner, when I think about it. I'm just glad Al wasn't around to bear the brunt of it as well. Please tell me you won't let Severus be too harsh with him. He's just a boy. A good boy."

"Of course I won't, Harry. Won't you please come home?"

"No, I'm sorry. I can't. It's better for all of us if I just . . . cut all ties now." And despite his earlier belief, Harry found that he did have more tears, and they came spilling out now. "Tell Severus that he can – if he wants, he can change Rosemary's last name. She's his – she should have his last name."

"Harry!" Hermione protested.

"Go home, Hermione. Tell them . . . tell the kids I love them, but I had to go away. They'll get used to not having me around after a while."

Hermione didn't want to go, but she knew that Severus was home alone with the two children. She realized that he'd likely never been alone with any of them, and she worried about the mood he was in. She knew he wouldn't hurt the children, but the atmosphere at home was probably not the greatest. Maybe if she gave them a day or so, let their tempers cool and their hurt feelings mend, then they could sit down and talk.

"All right, Harry. I'll go. But I'm not leaving you here forever. You come home when you're ready, but if I don't see you soon, I'm coming back. Please, Harry – we can work this out."

And as much as it killed her, she left him there, feeling like her world was coming apart at the seams.

##########

Hermione hadn't returned by four o'clock, and Severus climbed out of the haven that was his lab to think about dinner. It had been a long time since he'd put a meal together – Harry always took care of that. The few times he hadn't over the years, Hermione had cooked or they'd gotten takeaway. Still he wasn't an expert brewer for nothing, and he figured he could throw something appropriate together. He searched through the larder and the icebox and started to gather ingredients to make a stew.

Once he had it simmering, he remembered he wasn't alone in the house and went in search of his children. He found them, in the boys' room. PJ was on his bed, reading, and Rosemary was sitting at the desk, coloring in a book.

When PJ noticed Severus in the door, he got quickly to his feet and moved to put himself between his father and his sister. Severus' eyebrows shot up at this. The boy was afraid of him, but he was brave enough to protect his sister. Something in Severus' chest hitched at this.

"Dinner will be ready shortly," he announced, making sure his voice was soft and non-threatening.

"Yes, sir," PJ said. "I'll make sure Rosie washes up."

Severus stared at his son for a moment, as though seeing him for the first time. PJ stared back for a moment, but then dropped his gaze, and Severus left them.

##########

"How did you occupy yourself today?" Severus asked as the three of them sat together around the table.

"Reading mostly, sir," PJ said, spooning stew into his mouth.

"Were you reading anything in particular?" Severus pursued.

PJ shrugged. "Not really, sir. Just some books that Al recommended."

Severus noticed that his daughter was spooning the stew around in her bowl but not eating it. "Why are you not eating, child?"

"She doesn't like carrots," PJ explained.

"Oh," Severus said. What did he do now? Insist the child eat her dinner anyway? He doubted that's what Harry would do. No, Harry would have known she didn't like carrots.

PJ came to his rescue. "There's probably some stew without carrots, right, Father?" he said, his tone implying that he was delivering a message without actually saying the words. "And with smaller pieces just for a little girl."

Severus was nobody's fool. "Yes, I believe there is." He stood up, took the bowl from Rosemary's place, and approached the cooker. Keeping his body between the kettle and the child, Severus removed all of the carrot bits and dropped them back into the stew pot. Using his wand, he cut the remaining meat and potatoes into pre-schooler-sized pieces. He returned with the bowl and placed it back beneath the little girl's nose. She immediately began to eat.

PJ smiled at him proudly, and Severus nodded at the boy. "Thank you," he said.

"No problem, sir," PJ assured him, and he returned to his own dinner.

Severus wracked his brain for a topic of conversation he could broach with his son. "Have you read_ The Hobbit_?" he finally decided on. He remembered that book from his own childhood.

"I tried, sir, when I was younger," PJ answered. "But it was too hard for me."

"Perhaps we could read it together," Severus suggested tentatively, afraid that his offer would be spurned. This boy was obviously more than a little afraid of him, though he'd marshaled his courage to "protect" his sister when he thought she'd needed it. He admired that trait, but a shudder ran through him when he realized his second son was likely destined for Gryffindor.

"Dad and I are reading _Treasure Island_ right now," PJ mused.

"Oh," Severus said, surprised to find that it hurt for the boy to turn him down. "Well, that's all right then."

"I don't mind reading two books at once, though," PJ continued, sensing he'd hurt his father's feelings. "Sure, Father. I'd like to read _The Hobbit_ with you."

Severus felt himself smiling. "Fine, then. We can begin tonight."

They ate for a moment in silence before PJ spoke again. "Father? Is Dad coming home tonight?" He was a sensitive boy, and even if he hadn't heard part of their argument this morning, he would have sensed that something was different in this house.

Severus stared at the boy before answering. How much should he tell the child? Harry was stubborn, and if he was trying to make some kind of point with his absence, it could be a day or so before he got over his little snit. "He may return with your mother, but I am not sure," he finally said.

Hermione picked this moment to enter through the floo. Severus and PJ both waited expectantly after she'd dusted herself off, but the floo didn't flare again. Severus raised his eyebrows to her in question, but she shook her head once, briefly, in the negative. Though he wasn't supposed to, PJ caught this exchange as well and knew that his other father would not be coming home tonight.

##########

Hermione ate with Rosemary while the little girl finished her supper. Later, while the girl was in the tub, Severus and PJ settled in the sitting room with The Hobbit, Severus on the sofa and PJ in the wingbacked chair. PJ was mesmerized by the sound of his father's voice as he read. Dad read with more expression and tried to create different voices for each of the characters, but there was something dramatic about Father's timbre that lent itself very well to reading aloud. PJ was disappointed when Father closed the book after reading only two chapters.

By this time, Rosie was finished in the bath and came out to give goodnight kisses. Dressed in pajamas with attached feet, Rosemary climbed into her father's lap and laid a wet kiss on his cheek.

"That was Daddy's," she explained to him. "But he's not here, so I give it to you, Fadder." Her pronunciation of "Father" when she was beginning to speak had been difficult for her. She had much better mastery of the "th" sound now, but she'd persisted in calling Severus "Fadder" despite that.

"Thank you," Severus said solemnly. "I shall hold it for him."

Rosemary then put her arms around him as far as they would stretch and hugged him hard.

"Was that for Daddy, too?" he asked.

"No, that was for you. You look sad. Hugs make people happy. Daddy says so. Are you happy now?"

"I am much happier than I was a few minutes ago," he said. He didn't _look_ any happier, but Rosemary nodded in agreement anyway.

"Daddy says you smile in your heart," she said, poking him with a small finger just where she believed his heart to be. "I smile with my mouth." She smiled hugely at him, showing her small pearly white teeth off for his admiration. "See?"

"Yes, I see," Severus said, and he nearly smiled with his own mouth, despite the fact that he felt an emotional lump form in his throat. Harry had explained his sour countenance by telling the children he smiled in his heart? That was . . . sweet. And how had he not noticed before how captivating his youngest child was? He had a lot of making up to do he was beginning to realize.

"Ready, Rosie?" Hermione asked, coming into the room. She'd chased PJ into the bathtub and had returned to put her youngest to bed. She took the child from Severus' lap and carried her off to her room. Fifteen minutes later, after a trip to the loo, a drink of water, and a story, she returned, having successfully gotten Rosie off to dreamland.

As they were now alone, at least for a few minutes, Severus asked, "What did he say?"

Hermione inhaled deeply before answering. "He's not coming home. He said you called him a nanny. How could you, Severus?"

Severus hung his head, not sure how he could respond to that. He certainly couldn't deny it – he'd said those very words.

"Is that what you think of him?" Hermione pressed when he didn't answer.

"Of course not," Severus said. "I was angry. He denied it, but I know that he encouraged Albus to follow his own desires and ignore the very clear directive he was given."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's exactly the thing he would have done when he was that age! Do you dispute that?"

"No, I don't. But Severus, he never had anyone at home who cared enough for him to provide him with consistent guidance or discipline. He knows what he grew up without. He knows that children need parents who set limits for them and respond appropriately when those limits are violated. He's seen the product of parents who do not expect anything from their children and who give them everything they want. He's told me many times he doesn't want his children to end up like his cousin. So I ask you again, how do you know what he told Al?"

"I don't _know_, of course," Severus blustered. "But he implied that I don't know my own children, and that angered me."

"Because you don't believe that, or because it's the truth?"

Severus glared at Hermione but did not answer her.

"Severus, now is not the time to fool yourself. Why did what Harry said anger you so?"

Severus sat back in his chair, furiously examining himself and his relationship with his children. He knew in his heart that what Harry had said was true. He did _not _know his children. He had spent precious little time with them from the moment they'd been born. He'd preferred to lock himself away in his lab and tend his potions rather than facing his fears: the fear that he couldn't love his children, the fear that they couldn't love him, the fear that he could not be the father they needed, the fear that he would reincarnate his father, that he would strike his children and belittle them and humiliate them for his own amusement. Severus had kept himself away from his children because he was afraid.

"Because he's right," Severus admitted with a tortured whisper. "I don't know my children. I wanted it that way. I was . . . afraid that if I got too close to them that I would hurt them, or they would hurt me. I was afraid that I would be as large a failure at being a father as my own father was."

"Severus, do you love your children?"

Severus again looked inside himself. _Did_ he love his children? He certainly did not _know _them, but did he love them on a biological level, like a parent was supposed to love its child? "I would die for them," he began.

"Because survival of the species tells us that the young must be protected at all costs, or because you love them?"

"I don't know," Severus confessed, and it nearly ripped his heart out to say so. "I don't know."

Hermione went to him now, because she could see the anguish he was suffering. She took him into her arms and said, "Do you want to love them, Severus?"

"Yes," he whispered in her ear. "Yes, I want to love them. Please help me."

Near tears, Severus clung tightly to Hermione. He felt as though he'd been ripped open and his heart was exposed to the harsh elements. It beat painfully, each thump telling him that he had failed his children in many ways. Harry, too. As though sensing the torture his body was subjecting him to, Hermione said into his ear, "It's not too late. You can start today."

"Is everything all right?" a small voice said from the door.

Hermione gave Severus one last squeeze before letting him go. Severus turned away from his son so that he would not see the emotion that riddled him now.

"Yes, love. Everything's fine," Hermione said, her voice firm and bright. "Bath all finished?"

"Yes. And I brushed my teeth. I'm going to go to my room and read until bedtime, all right?"

"Of course it's all right," Hermione said with a smile. "Lights out at nine, right?"

"Yes, Mum." PJ crossed the room and hugged his mother. She pulled him close and kissed the top of his head.

"Good night, PJ," Hermione said into his hair.

"Good night, Mum," he said, pulling away. "Father?"

Severus cleared his throat and turned around. "Yes, Patrick?"

"Thank you for reading to me today. Can we do more tomorrow?"

"Yes," Severus said, clearing his throat again. That annoying lump seemed to be caught there. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Good night, Father."

"Good night . . . son."

PJ favored him with a wide grin before leaving the room.

"Will you go to Harry?" Hermione asked. "I don't think he's going to come home until you apologize and convince him that you didn't mean what you said."

"He is stubborn. You know this. We are both stubborn. I . . . said some horrible things. I think he needs some time . And I need some time. He loves them too much to stay away. I think that if we wait a couple of days, he will come home on his own."

"I'm not so sure, Severus. He told me – he told me that you could change Rosemary's name to Snape if you wanted."

"He what? He seriously thinks that I would want to do that to him?"

"You hurt him," Hermione said. "He feels as though your opinion of him has not changed since he was a student at Hogwarts, as though you cast accusations without knowing the truth or bothering to ask questions."

Severus was stunned to learn just _how much_ he had hurt his young lover. Change Rosemary's name?! Never! Did Harry really think this rift was that serious? Impossible. It was a simple disagreement.

"Once I have apologized, we can get back to where we were," Severus said with certainty he wasn't sure he felt any longer. "No, we'll be better than we were before, because _I'll _be better than I was before."

"I went to see my parents today. I asked if they could take the kids tomorrow. I had to tell them what was going on, though I didn't go into detail. They couldn't take them. Mum stayed home with PJ and Rosie today and really can't afford to take another day, and Dad's in London at a seminar."

"I can do it," Severus offered immediately.

"That's all right. I can take the day off."

"No, you can't,"Severus argued. " Your presentation, the project you've been working on for months, is the day after tomorrow. You cannot afford to take the time. I can. We will be fine."

"Mum said she could take them the day after," Hermione said hopefully. She really didn't want to miss tomorrow, but she would have, if her children had needed her. And she _really _hoped that Harry would be home by then. "Are you sure?"

Severus had seen the spark of hope, and he said, "Yes, I'm sure."

"And you're sure you can't go to Harry tonight?"

"I think it's best if I wait. I know I hurt him, and I know I need to apologize, but it'll be better if we both have clear heads. Time will help in that regard."

Hermione moved into his arms again. "I miss him," she said.

"I know. I miss him as well."

Their embrace was once again interrupted by a voice, this time the voice of Minerva McGonagall coming from their floo.

"Severus? Hermione? Harry? Are you there?"

Immediately fearing that something was wrong with Albus, Hermione dropped to her knees before the floo. "We're here. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. May I come through?"

"Of course." Hermione got to her feet and backed away from the floo. Moments later, Minerva stepped out, escorting an anxious-looking Albus with her.

"Al?" Hermione asked, immediately putting her hand on her son's shoulder and looking down at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right, Mum," he assured her. "I asked the Headmistress to bring me home. I needed to speak with you."

"I hope it's all right," Minerva added. "I did not want to pry, but I could see the boy was upset."

"There's something I need to say," Al said, his chin up.

"Minerva, we will keep him home this evening and return him in the morning," Severus said, eying his son, not forgetting that the boy had a reckoning of his own coming. "Thank you for bringing him home."

"It was no trouble," she said, looking from one to the other and wondering where Harry was. "If there is anything I can do to assist you, please don't hesitate to call on me."

After Minerva had gone, Hermione put an arm around Al's shoulder and escorted him to the sofa. "What are you doing here?"

"I got a letter from PJ. He was at Gran's earlier today when the letter I sent to them arrived. He wrote me a note and sent it back with Liandra. He said that something strange was going on, and that Dad had left him and Rosie at Gran's. He was worried. As soon as I got the letter, I went to Aunt Minerva, I mean, the Headmistress, and asked her to bring me home. What's going on? Where's Dad?"

"Dad's not here, Al," Hermione told him.

"Why? Do you know where he is?"

"I do," Hermione said. "I talked with him just a little while ago."

"Is he coming home tonight? I'd like to talk to him, too."

"No, he won't be home tonight."

"Can I go where he is?"

"No, love, you can't."

Albus turned to his other father. "What did you do? You did something to him, I know it."

Severus raised an eyebrow at this. "Just what are you accusing me of?"

The boy looked frightened to be addressing his father this way, but he continued. "I don't know. But I know Dad wouldn't have just left us. Which means that you did something. And I know that it's my fault, because I tried out for quidditch after you told me not to."

Severus looked at his son. "You knew that we forbade it?"

"Of course I knew. I got Dad's letter. He said you'd talked. I brought the letter." Al reached into his pocket and removed the folded letter. He handed it to Hermione, who was closer, and after she'd read it, she handed it to Severus.

Severus perused the letter and his heart sunk a bit lower. Harry had conveyed to the boy exactly what they'd talked about, and although his wording could have been a bit firmer, there was no doubt as to the message. The decision to disobey that directive had been entirely Albus'. All of the accusations he'd thrown at Harry earlier today were wrong. He'd been wrong, dreadfully wrong. Harry had gone away and it was Severus' fault. He would not wait another hour. He would go to Harry tonight and make him see how sorry Severus was and how much they needed Harry here and wanted him back, as the full partner in this family that he rightfully deserved to be.

But first he needed to deal with his son. He sat in the armchair and looked at the boy. He would have liked to discuss this with Hermione and Harry before meting out punishment, but the boy was here now and they would not wait.

"Do you know that what you did was wrong?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Albus said, meeting his father's eyes.

"Tell me why."

"Because I knew you didn't me want to try out, and I did anyway. I disobeyed you."

"Do you feel that you should be punished?"

Albus scuffled his feet against the carpet but still did not lower his gaze. "I suppose so."

"And what do you feel an appropriate punishment would be?"

Albus finally looked away. "I don't know. You could ground me, I suppose, over Christmas break."

"And would that punishment fit this particular crime, in your opinion?"

"Not really," Albus confessed.

"It seems to me that a reasonable consequence for someone who has gone against their parents' wishes and obtained something they should not have would be to give that wrongly-obtained item back," Snape observed.

Albus' shoulders slumped. He'd known what he'd have to suffer when he came here. "You want me to quit?"

Severus looked at Hermione before dropping the gavel, and when she nodded, he said, "Yes, we want you to quit."

"I knew you'd say that," Albus confessed. "So after I got PJ's letter and figured out that what I had done had caused problems here, I went to Professor Argyle and told him that I was quitting."

Both of his parents were shocked by the maturity being exhibited by this eleven-year old child. "That's very mature of you, Albus," Hermione said.

Al shrugged. "I knew it was inevitable. Thought it might buy me some good will here if I took the initiative."

It had. Severus was beyond impressed by this boy. He wished he could take credit for having raised this child. He had been on the verge of concocting an additional punishment for the child for disobeying his parents, but that idea flew right out of his head. He could tell that having to give back the position he'd won on the team had been a very serious punishment by itself.

"You were right," Severus said. "I am very impressed with your maturity and the responsibility you have taken for your actions. I am proud of you, son."

There, that hadn't hurt too much.

"Thank you, Father. Now what about Dad? I owe him an apology as well. I don't know what happened, but obviously what I did made him leave."

"He did not leave because of you. I am going to see him now," Severus said, drawing an appreciative smile from Hermione. "You are going to bed. You will be returned to school in the morning."

"All right," Albus said, rising and heading for his room. "Good night."

"Good night, Albus."

"Good night, love," Hermione said. "Don't stay up too late talking with your brother."

"Where is he?" Snape asked once they were alone.

"Grimmauld Place."

"I'll be back," he promised, kissing her before stepping into the floo.

##########

Minutes later, Snape's head was in the floo. "Hermione? He's not here."

"He's not?"

"No. There is no sign that he has even been here, so it is hard to tell whether he is coming back. I am going to wait for a time, in the hope that he will return."

"All right. Bring him home, Severus."

But Severus didn't bring him home. He stayed at Grimmauld Place for an hour, sitting before the floo, anxiously waiting for Harry to come back, rehearsing what he would say to his young lover. Finally, he had to conclude that Harry may not return this evening, and he dejectedly flooed home.

Twenty minutes after he had done so, Harry arrived, laden with bags and boxes. He'd come here with no clothing and no food, and he'd been in Muggle London loading up on supplies. He could go home and get his things, but he couldn't face even the thought of seeing Severus now. Every time he thought about the altercation he'd had with Severus earlier today, he felt like crying. And the heartache from missing his children could bring him to his knees if he stopped moving.

##########

Hermione flooed Albus back to Hogwarts the following morning and then went on to work. Severus sat at the breakfast table with his children, a little lost regarding what to do with them now that he was in charge of them. Feeling his way carefully, he asked, "What do you usually do all day?"

"Well," PJ said, "it's a school day, so at eight thirty, we leave for school. I entertain Rosie while Dad gets ready for his classes, and then we're in school from nine until noon."

"Your sister as well?"

"Yes. She sits at Dad's desk, and he has her doing stuff while we're having our lessons. She's pretty smart," PJ said proudly.

"I am not prepared to teach his lessons, but there is no reason why you cannot attend, if you desire. If you would prefer to stay home, for today only you understand, I would have no objection."

PJ sat and considered his options. He liked school, and he looked forward to it every day. Dad and his other teachers made lessons interesting, and those students who were a year or two away from starting Hogwarts actually were allowed to start using their magic, which thrilled PJ to no end. It was the only place he was allowed to even touch his wand, and he didn't want to go without that any day that could be helped. And he'd missed yesterday.

However, if he went to school, he'd be leaving Rosie here alone with Father. He was forced to admit that Father intimidated him quite a lot, and even though they were sitting here having a very civil conversation, PJ was on edge, sure that the older of his fathers was only a wrong word away from becoming angry. He could watch his step well enough, but he was worried for Rosie, who was little and who likely didn't know just how volatile her father was on a normal day, let alone when things were as stressful as they were right now.

Severus seemed to know what the young man was wrestling with. "I assure you, your sister will be fine with me."

PJ smiled self-consciously at the fact that Father knew why he was hesitating. "I'd like to go. We have a test in math, and we were going to work on levitation charms some more."

"What happens when one of your instructors is absent?"

"One of the others just doubles up. Dad's lesson plans will be there, so someone else will know what he was going to do today." PJ shrugged to demonstrate it was no big deal.

"Well, why don't you go and get ready, then? I will take you to school at your usual time."

"Yes, sir," PJ said, but he didn't immediately get up. "Are you going to bring Dad back today?"

"I will have to wait until this evening," Severus said. He had thought perhaps he'd try staking out Grimmauld Place again today, but he didn't want Rosemary to be witness to the discussion he needed to have with Harry. Plus, he wasn't above using the fact that Harry would be missing the children and wanting to see them to support his cause.

PJ nodded, pleased, then stood up. "What are you going to do with Rosie?"

"I think we will find some way to spend the day."

"She likes to color. And she likes to be read to. And she likes her dolls."

"Thank you, Patrick," Severus said solemnly.

PJ's smile beamed at him. He was beginning to discover that a little kindness and respect went a long way with children.

After PJ had left the room to get dressed, Severus turned his attention to his daughter. "Are you done your breakfast?"

"Done," she confirmed.

"Why don't you go and get dressed, and we will take your brother to school."

"'kay, Fadder." She slid down from her chair and ran from the room and Severus began clearing away the dishes from breakfast.

Severus discovered that you could not send a child Rosemary's age into her room with directions and expect her to actually follow them. He'd taken care of the dirty dishes and started laundry before discovering that they needed to take Al to school immediately or he'd be late. When he went to retrieve Rosemary from her room, he discovered her playing with her dolls, still in her pajamas. "I thought you were going to get dressed?"

"Baby needed me," she explained. "Dolly and Baby were fighting, and Dolly hitted Baby over the head with a stick."

"You have very vicious dolls," Severus noted.

"Dolly had to be in time out. She cried. But we don't hit," she scolded with a finger wagging at one of her dolls. "We use words, not hands."

"Good advice. Come. We have to get Patrick to school." He'd have to take the child in her pajamas.

"Can I bring Baby? Her head still hurts."

"Yes. Bring Baby. Let's go."

##########

After dropping Patrick at school, Severus returned to the house with Rosemary. Now what?

"Do you wish to play in your room?"

"Will you play with me, Fadder?"

Severus sighed. He'd known that he wouldn't be able to brew while watching children, but he'd hoped to get down into the lab and review his inventory of supplies and ingredients and organize the outstanding orders. Bringing the child down into the lab was out of the question.

"What are we going to play?" he asked hesitantly.

"Come into my room," she said, taking his hand and dragging Severus away.

##########

Severus was grateful when it was time to retrieve Patrick from school, and he hoped he'd managed to find all of the hair ties and barrettes his daughter had woven into his hair. He'd sat stoically on the floor while the girl worked happily around him, chattering all the while. She really was quite obviously intelligent and accustomed to adults who did not speak to her as though she was a baby. When Rosemary had asked him to let her fix his hair, he had at first refused. But the little trembling lip that came out to pout and the sadness in her eyes had him changing his mind in an instant.

As soon as they arrived home, Severus started lunch. He quietly asked Patrick if Rosemary napped in the afternoon and was somewhat relieved when told that although she did not sleep, Rosemary spent a hour or so in her room after lunch, on her bed, engaged in quiet activities.

The afternoon went quickly, though Severus had no idea why. He and Patrick read more of _The Hobbit_ while Rosemary rested, and the three of them played a board game consisting of ladders and slides. A mid-afternoon snack and reading together with Rosemary seemed to while away the time. By the time Hermione returned home, he realized that he had accomplished next to nothing. In fact, the laundry he had started in the morning was still sitting in the washing machine. And Rosemary was still in her pajamas.

How did Harry do this, every day, all day? A new respect for what was involved in the day-to-day details of child care and taking care of a home had been driven home to him. With a renewed dedication to bring his partner home, Severus once again visited Grimmauld Place. And once again, Harry was not there, although Severus found the clothing he'd purchased and the groceries he'd laid in, reassuring him that Harry actually was staying here. He waited, this time for two hours, before finally giving up and returning home.

##########

After dropping Rosemary with Charlotte and Patrick at school, Severus took himself to Hogwarts. He felt as though he'd forged the foundation for a new relationship with his two younger children, though they both still needed additional time and attention, and now it was time to do the same with his oldest.

He first visited the staff room and caught Minerva there starting her day. She was, to say the least, very surprised and delighted to see him there. He explained to her a little about what was going on, then asked her permission to speak with Albus' teachers. She, of course, agreed, and escorted him about the castle, knowing in her head which of the boy's professors had free periods at particular times. Albus caught sight of his father in the hallway between classes and immediately became concerned that he was in trouble.

After his last class of the day, he was summonsed to the Headmistress' office.

"Hello, Father," he said nervously.

"Good afternoon, Albus. The Headmistress has graciously allowed me to take you away from school for dinner. I thought we might walk into Hogsmeade and eat at the pub. If you are agreeable?"

Albus stared up at him, then shot a nervous glance at the Headmistress. Albus squared his shoulders, hoping he was ready for whatever was in store, and said, "I'd like that very much, Father."

As soon as they'd cleared the castle gates, Severus took pity on the boy. "You are not in any trouble, Albus. I simply wanted to see you and talk to you."

This hardly put Albus at ease, since this particular father had never gone out of his way to see him or talk to him when they lived in the same house. There had to be a reason he was here, and from Albus' point of view, it couldn't be anything good. Maybe it had something to do with Dad. Maybe Father couldn't find him, or maybe he had and Dad said he was never coming home. Now Albus was even more worried, which clearly showed on his face.

"What has you so upset?" Severus asked.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you're here, sir," Albus admitted. "Does it have something to do with Dad? Is he . . . not ever coming home?"

"Let us wait until we are seated for this discussion," Severus suggested. "But do not fear. I have yet to speak with your father, so I have no dire news concerning him."

Albus waited nervously until they'd taken a table at the Three Broomsticks and had their dinner orders taken. Then he turned his brown eyes on his father, silently begging him to put him out of his misery.

"I have tried for the last two evenings to speak with your father," Severus began. "Though it is apparent he is staying at the house in Grimmauld Place, he has not been at home when I visited, though I did wait a considerable amount of time for him. I will try again this evening, and I plan to stay until he and I can speak. I came today to let you know that his leaving is not your fault. I am solely responsible for that. In the heat of the moment, I said some things to him that were hurtful and untrue, and I must atone for that. And I will. But I did not want you laboring under the misapprehension that it was your doing."

"But I disobeyed you. I started this ball rolling," Albus argued, tears shining in his eyes.

"While it is true that you disobeyed directions you had been given, it is the way I reacted to that situation that has led us to the one that we currently face. I and I alone bear the responsibility for it. We will work it out, I promise you."

"When you see Dad tonight, can you send me an owl to let me know how it all worked out? I'd sleep better knowing."

"Of course. Try not to worry."

Easier said than done Albus guessed, so he just said, "Yes, sir. Where are PJ and Rosie?"

"They are with your grandmother. I dropped Rosemary off there this morning, and your mother was picking your brother up from school and taking him there for the afternoon."

After a moment of silence, Albus asked, "Can I ask why you were in the castle today?"

"You _may_. I was speaking with your professors."

Albus' eyes widened at that. "Have I done something wrong?" His shoulders slumped. "Something _else_ I mean."

"No, you have done nothing wrong." Indeed, all of Albus' teachers had nothing but positive things to say about him. He was a very good student who applied himself diligently to his studies. He was very bright, participated in class discussions and always turned in well-thought-out and neat homework. He'd arrived at Hogwarts with a good educational foundation which his professors were delighting in adding to. He was always polite in class, respectful of his teachers and fellow students and always willing to lend a hand. He was just an all-around good kid, and Severus was praised repeatedly throughout the day. He knew, however, that he deserved none of the credit for any of it. He wished he'd known his son better two weeks ago – there seemed no doubt that this boy was capable of handling his studies and Quidditch, too. There really was no reason to hand down an edict denying him the chance to play in the first place. "In fact, all of them have nothing but positive things to say to you."

"Oh. That's good."

Dinner arrived, and they sat quietly eating for a time. Finally, Severus said, "Tell me more about this Charms project Professor Flitwick has you working on." Because Albus had been allowed to use his magic in a structured educational setting for two years prior to coming to Hogwarts, he was considerably more advanced in this area than his year-mates. Flitwick had suggested an additional project to keep the boy interested, and Albus had agreed willingly. He discussed the project animatedly with his father, and by the time dinner had ended and they were walking back toward the castle, Albus was much more at ease with the man he had always called Father but who had never really felt like one.

Hagrid met them at the castle gates. "Good evening, Professor," he said with a nod at Severus.

"I'm no longer a professor here, Hagrid. Please, call me Severus."

Hagrid beamed at him. "All right, Pro – Severus. The Headmistress asked me to escort young Mr. Snape here up ter the castle, ter save you the trip."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Severus said. "That's very kind of you." He turned to his son. "Keep up the good work, son. Thank you for taking dinner with me. If you need any help with your project, please feel free to call on me." He extended his hand toward his son.

Albus stared at the hand for a moment before throwing himself on his father and hugging him tightly. Severus hugged him back until the boy pulled away and looked up the length of the much taller man and said, "You'll owl me tonight, right?"

Severus ran a hand over his son's hair, pushing it back away from his forehead and his small, worried face. He smoothed the worry lines between his son's eyes with a thumb. "I will owl you. We may have a long talk, so do not wait up."

"Yes, sir." Albus stepped away. "Good night. I'm glad you came tonight."

"As am I," Severus responded. "Good night."

Severus watched the half-giant and the little boy until they were out of sight, then he took himself home. He kissed his partner and his sleeping daughter, looked in on his middle child to say good night, then flooed directly to Grimmauld Place.

##########

Once again, Harry was nowhere to be seen, though Severus searched the house from top to bottom, wondering for the first time if Harry had been here both times he'd tried before but hiding himself under the invisibility cloak to avoid seeing him. Once he was certain he was alone in the house, he settled himself on the sofa in the sitting room, facing the floo, and prepared to wait, for as long as it took, for Harry to come home.

##########

Apparently Severus fell asleep at some point because he woke to find himself at the end of a wand. He quelled the instinctive moment of fear he felt when he realized who was holding the wand, stood up slowly, and stretched his aching back and neck.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded, breathing rapidly. It had given him quite a fright to step out of the floo and find a sleeping man slumped on his sofa. He'd drawn his wand and was ready to throw a hex before he realized just who it was. He put the hex away, but his wand stayed poised.

"I came to talk to you," Severus said.

"I think you said plenty the other day."

"Harry, please. I'm sorry." There – he'd got that out there straight away. "I want you to come home."

Harry lowered his wand, but didn't put it away. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you . . . you said . . . I can't . . ." Harry reigned in his agitation. "I think you should just go."

"Harry," Severus said softly, sincerely. "The children need you."

"Don't use them against me!" Harry said angrily. "Not again!"

"I'm not," Severus countered, though he kind of was. "I'm stating a truth. The children need you. Hermione needs you. _I_ need you. We all want you to come home."

"Until you decide I'm expendable again, right? I can't keep doing this, Severus. I love those kids, and it's killing me from the inside out to lose them. But I can't put them in the middle of a battle between us. I can't tear them apart that way. If you feel the need to change Rosemary's last name, go ahead and do it."

"No," Severus said quickly. "I can't believe you'd – " He stopped there, then patted the sofa beside him. "Please, sit."

Harry sat, but in the chair, separated from Severus by a low table.

"Harry, I have been doing a lot of thinking this week. I've been forced to examine my own feelings and motives, and I've had my eyes opened to the way things are. Those children are _your_ children. It is you they love, it is you they trust, and it is you they need."

Harry snorted. "Let's not kid ourselves. We all know the truth here. Those children are yours. You'd know it just by looking at them. And don't tell me you haven't cast the paternity charm on them. We've all done it, in secret. Because even though it didn't matter, we all wanted to know. They're _yours_, Severus. And you'd have every right to take them away, and there would be nothing I could do to stop you. If that's going to happen, I'd rather just step aside now and make it easier on them."

"Harry, I would not do that. Those children are _yours_," Severus insisted.

"Don't, Severus, okay? I _know_! I went to see a doctor, and I know I can't – You hold all the cards when it comes to the children. I know that. And when you called your hand, I realized there was nothing I could do to stop you. I'd gone all in and I lost everything. I have nothing left to play with."

"Wait a moment. You saw a doctor? What kind of doctor? What for?"

"What difference does that make now? Suffice it to say that I _know_ that I've failed even in that area of masculinity, while you – you're apparently some god of fertility or something," Harry said bitterly.

"Did you see a fertility specialist?"

"No. But I had some tests done, and they told me that my sperm were dead or defective or something and that I couldn't have kids. So even without the paternity charm, I'd know they weren't mine. They can't be."

"Harry, listen to me," Severus said, leaning earnestly toward the young man. "Those children are yours in every way that matters. _You_ have raised them. _You_ have cared for them. _You _have been there for them every night and every day since they were born. You are far more their father than I ever was."

"No, I'm just the _nanny_." That accusation still stung.

"Harry – I cannot tell you how sorry I am for saying that. You are _not_ a nanny. Those children – Can I tell you how I have spent the last two days?"

When Harry made no answer, Severus continued. "I've been getting to know my children. Did you know they were amazing? My oldest son, Albus, is smart and respectful and responsible. He likes potions! My second son Patrick is bright and sensitive and magically powerful and loves to read and is fiercely protective of the people he loves. And my daughter – Harry, you should see her. She's beautiful. She's no bigger than a kneazle but she has the ability to coerce me into sitting still while she plays with my hair. That's an amazing power, that is."

Harry didn't look impressed by this, and Severus sighed. "What I'm trying to tell you is that I have three very impressive children, and I had nothing to do with the fact that they are what they are. That is all on you, Harry. You made them that way. I could not have done it. I still could not do it. And although I plan on becoming much more actively involved in their lives, they still need their father. They need you. Hermione needs you. _I_ need you. Please come home."

Harry had tears in his eyes when he looked at Severus. "Severus, I . . . I want to come home. I've missed you all so much." In fact, he'd been on the verge of abandoning the moral high ground and going back home, in whatever capacity Severus would allow him to be there, because he missed those children so damn much he wasn't sure he'd make it through another day.

Severus opened his arms, and Harry wasted no time flinging himself into them. Severus held his young lover tight, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Harry raised his tear-stained face, and Severus kissed both of his wet cheeks and then his lips. Harry melted into the kiss, having missed this, too. "Can we go now?" he asked without taking his lips from Severus'.

"Are there things here you want to bring with you?"

"I can get them later. Let's just go home."

"Yes, home," Severus agreed. "Your children are waiting there. Hermione is waiting there. I am so sorry I hurt you, Harry."

Harry kissed him again. "I'm going to kiss Rosie and PJ, and then I'm going to take you and Hermione to bed."

Severus smiled in agreement. While Harry was reuniting with the two younger children, he would send a quick owl to Albus to let him know all was well. He thought maybe he'd ask if the boy wanted to come back for the weekend. Then the family would all be home together.

Family. Home. The two best words in the English language and Severus' new favorites. He pushed Harry to his feet, stood himself, and taking Harry's hand, they stepped into the floo together.

The End

46


End file.
